


Dare to Bask

by birdfriend



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Humor, I have no idea where this is going, Identity Reveal, Reveal, Slow Burn, and i haven't written fic in years, but i'm a sucker for fluff and i was a magical girl anime loser in middle school, so here goes nothing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-05-19 01:14:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5950558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdfriend/pseuds/birdfriend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adrien doesn't have a crush on Marinette. </p><p>(He does.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. to know her

**Author's Note:**

> Erm. Hello. I've been writing superhero identity reveal romance fiction since I was in middle school, so it was only a matter of time before I became ML trash. 
> 
> This will 100% be a multi-chapter fic, and knowing my writing tendencies, it might even have plot. If you like fluff and dumb teenagers and slow burn romance/reveals, there's a good chance you're in the right place. 
> 
> I blame @hearjessroar for everything. 
> 
> Title (and hopefully all chapter titles) taken from one of my all time favorite songs, Relient K's Candlelight, if you care to take a listen.

Adrien did _not_ have a crush on Marinette.

But, he thought as she blushed and stuttered in the face of his cheerful “Hello,” he was flummoxed as to why he couldn’t seem to get to know her.

After so many years of homeschooling, Adrien had been privately terrified that he’d be inept at making friends, coming in so late to the Collége. But to his surprise, the dull fashion-forward functions that his father forced him into had actually prepared him better than he thought. Polite small talk came easily to him, and he found he even enjoyed it when conversing with people his own age.

He slipped easily into friendship with Nino, who took his fame in stride and mostly acted as if he were just a normal fourteen year-old boy - a refreshing break from the life he’d known before. Alya, with her fiery and outgoing personality, had his number within two days of meeting him, and had managed to establish at least seven inside jokes with him in only a week. And of course there was Chloé; despite his reluctance, she seemed to cling to him without any effort on his part whatsoever.

And so, naturally, the one person whose attention he just _could not hold,_ was the one whose attention he wanted most.

He brought his focus back to said person, who was somehow still stuttering out a response to his greeting.

“I mean- and I- sorry. What I was saying was- er-“

Adrien put a hand on Marinette’s shoulder, effectively silencing her attempt at a response to his greeting. A rather becoming blush blossomed on her cheeks, and Adrien’s heart skipped a beat as her blue, suddenly wide eyes focused intently on him.

He wasn’t sure what made him do it, but later he’d blame it on those eyes.

“Marinette. I was wondering if you wanted to hang out during lunch today?”

She didn’t answer, only continued to stare at him. He felt an embarrassed blush, surely rivaling hers, spread up his neck.

“I mean! If you don’t already have plans. I know you usually hang out with Alya or go home...”

Her eyes widened impossibly, and he reached up to scratch the back of his neck. How _did_ he know that? It wasn’t like he really paid that much attention to Marinette. Well, maybe he _did_ pay a _little_ attention. Maybe more than necessary. Oh god, she still wasn’t answering. Did she think he was a stalker? Had he really been staring _that_ much? It wasn’t like he had a crush on her or anythi-

“Sure!”

Adrien’s eyes, which had been staring through her in a stupor of panic, snapped back to Marinette. She seemed torn between smiling enthusiastically and biting her lip, resulting in a slightly manic, albeit cute grimace.

Adrien chuckled, taking a deep breath. Why was his heart beating so frantically?

“Cool. So um, I’ll... we can...”

He hadn’t thought this far ahead. In fact, he hadn’t really thought at all. He brought his wandering eyes back to Marinette’s to ground himself, realized this was a counterintuitive course of action, then settled them somewhere on her forehead, willing his small talk autopilot to kick in already.

But Marinette beat him to it. “Let’s- let’s meet in front of the school? After. Erm. Fourth period?”

Adrien beamed as her grimace simmered into a tentative smile.

“That sounds great,” he said, and with a surge of confidence, he started to walk past her to his locker, leaning against her shoulder playfully as he did. “Think about where you’d like to eat until then. My treat.”

“O-okay!” She shouted, waving goofily to him before sprinting away.

He stifled a dumb grin as he opened his locker, feeling heat rise to his face once again. _You’re excited because you’re making a new friend_ , he told himself sternly. _Not because your new friend is nice. Or funny. Or cute. Or pretty. You love Ladybug. You_ do not _have a crush on Marinette. You do not have a crush on Marinette. You do not-_

“Hey, did you do the homework for Physics?”

“I do not have a crush on Marinette!”

Nino blinked as Adrien slammed his locker shut in surprise at his arrival. Without missing a beat, Nino raised his eyebrows.

“And Jagged Stone records grow on trees, what else is new?”

Adrien groaned and banged his head against the locker.

* * *

By the time fourth period ended, Adrien was definitely regretting his decision.

Not because he was nervous about his date - no! _Hang out session_ with Marinette, but because he’d willingly trapped himself into a prolonged encounter with a girl who couldn’t seem to keep a proper grasp on the French language when she spoke to him. Thus, he was about to spend the next two hours with someone who either despised him, or was psychotic, or was just generally antisocial.

Although, she seemed to have no problem being outgoing when trouble (or Chloé) arose...

As the last few minutes of class ticked on, Adrien’s jittery limbs were dying for an outlet. He gave in and stretched, twisting his back in his chair this way and that, chancing a glance at Marinette and nearly choking when he found her blue eyes trained on him.

He whipped his head back to the front of the room; she’d caught him looking.

Or had _he_ caught _her_ looking?

He was saved from this particular dilemma by the bell, and he forcefully shoved down the butterflies in his stomach that came with it.

“Good luck,” Nino muttered with a shit-eating grin, hurrying away to tag along with Alya. They exchanged knowing glances, and Adrien gulped.

He turned to find Marinette standing stiffly by his desk. He willed an easy smile to grace his face.

“Hey. Have you decided where you want to go?”

She swallowed, and as if she were putting an immense amount of effort into stringing a sentence together, she said, “Y-yeah. How about the café across the street? I hear they give um. Student discounts.”

She blushed, and Adrien bit his lip. She was clearly remembering his offer to pay, and it was adorable.

 _Considerate,_ he corrected.

“Sounds great!” he said, standing in his chair and adjusting his bag. They walked side by side out of the classroom and into the hall.

In no way could this silence be considered comfortable. For once in his life Adrien floundered for something to say to the girl walking next to him, who was getting redder and redder by the minute. He kept casting sidelong glances at her, trying to remember things that he knew about her to ask about but he was drawing a blank, and could only seem to catalogue what was immediately in front of him: _Marinette. Small. Pink pants. Lipgloss. Black hair. Pigtails. Blue eyes. Freckles. Smudge of flour on her blazer-_

“So your family owns a bakery,” he remembered suddenly. “What’s that like?”

Unfortunately, Adrien had asked the question as they were heading down the stairs, and Marinette was so startled by the break in silence that she tripped.

Adrien didn’t need to be Chat Noir to be quick on his feet. He immediately pivoted, placing a foot in front of her on the step below and circling his arms around her to catch her fall.

He heard her gasp out in surprise right next to his ear, and his stomach did an impressive backflip. She seemed to realize how close they were at the same time he did, and they both pulled back in shock.

“Sorry! Oh my god, sorry,” Marinette squeaked, her hands hovering over Adrien’s shoulders before she clasped them in front of her, squeezing her eyes shut. “I’m such a putz - I mean! Klutz. I can barely walk two feet without tripping over myself.”

“It’s okay,” he said quickly, placing what he hoped was a reassuring smile on his face, which felt like it was melting. “I’m just glad you’re okay. Your books, however...”

They had fallen out of her bag, and were scattered over the steps. She laughed nervously, and he joined her in leaning down to pick them up.

His hand fell over hers as they got to the last book at the same time, and he pulled it back, looking up quickly.

“Sorry!” they said simultaneously, eyes meeting. He blushed and looked down at the same time she did, only to meet her hand once more as he went to pick up the book again. In his haste to pull back, he knocked his head against hers.

“Ouch!” They said at once, staring at each other for a second time.

The eye contact lasted only a second before they both burst into fits of giggles.

“Well, between the both of us we have at least one functioning human,” Adrien chuckled as Marinette stuffed the last book into her bag and they set off once more.

She said nothing, grinning shyly up at him. Adrien smiled even wider. He was going to get this girl out of her shell if it was the last thing he did.

* * *

Okay, well. Maybe that had been a bit of an ambitious mission to take on.

The adrenaline of saving Marinette from her fall had worn off, and now he was facing the full extent of the challenge he’d brought upon himself.

“So. your parents own a bakery, right?”

“Huh?! Wha-uh, yeah. Um. Yes.”

She stared at him sheepishly.

“So what’s that like?”

She blinked. “It’s um. Pretty cool. I really like sweets and stuff. So. yeah.”

She fell silent once more, not even daring to meet his eyes anymore.

“What’s your favorite dessert, then?”

“Oh, um, there are just so many...” She managed, and bit her lip as she pondered. Adrien waited for her answer, but the silence began to stretch, so he interjected again.

“Well mine is-“

“I think I have to go with-“

They laughed nervously at their simultaneous responses, and Adrien gestured kindly with his hand to prompt her. She began again.

“I-I think my favorite are macarons. My papa has a special chocolate-raspberry flavor that he makes, they’re really popular at the store.”

It was the first time all day that she had managed to string together a full sentence. “That sounds amazing!” Adrien enthused. “I’ll have to stop by and try them sometime.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Y-yeah! Anytime.”

“Do you think you could snag me a free sample?” he continued teasingly, with a small wink.

He’d pushed too far somehow - her eyes widened and the infamous blush returned. Her mouth gaped open and closed like a fish for a moment, before she stuttered out:

“N-not like you’d need it.”

Adrien’s insides twitched uneasily. No wonder she felt so uncomfortable around him, the way he was throwing the subject of money around. She probably thought he was some kind of snobbish, wealthy daddy’s boy who offered to pay for meals and then pushed for free stuff.

Not knowing what to say, he forced a smile, and became suddenly occupied with the menu in front of him.

They sat in silence, inspecting their menus, until the waitress came to take their orders. They gave them, and she left, taking the menus with her. Well, there went his only way out of the conversation from hell that he was scrambling to salvage.

“So,” he began again, refusing to lose hope. “You’re really good at fashion design, right?”

She brightened visibly. “Yeah! I really love it! But. I mean...” she suddenly shrank back with a modest laugh. “I’m not _that_ good at it. Nowhere near as good as someone like your dad.”

He stomped down the urge to frown. Why did she seem to have formed some idea of who he was based on his home life? He was so much more than that.

“But my dad picked your design for his contest,” he countered, desperately trying to steer the conversation back to her.

“That’s true...” she trailed off with a small smile. “Sorry about the feathers.”

He grinned. “You couldn’t have known. The design was amazing nonetheless.”

She blushed and shut down again, and Adrien could have punched himself. _You’re coming on too strong,_ he scolded. _But there’s nothing to come on to_ , he amended quickly, _Because it’s not a date and you do_ not _have a crush on Marinette._

The conversation ebbed once more, and Adrien couldn’t help but feel like Marinette looked put out. He was ashamed of himself; the few questions he’d managed were probably ones she’d all heard before, the ones she was sick of answering. God knows he was sick of his classmate’s queries about his dad and his modeling career. He wondered if she felt how he had when she brought up his dad. Were money and fame all she thought of him? Were baking and fashion all he thought of her?

And damn it, why couldn’t he figure out how to make it past her unbreakable armor of nerves?

He sighed, raising his eyes from the table to her face.

“Do. Do you like me Marinette?”

If he’d thought her blush was intense before, it was nothing compared to the one she sported now. Adrien would have bet the entirety of his father’s fashion empire that her face was the color of Ladybug’s spandex suit itself.

“Because it doesn’t seem like you do,” he continued.

She opened her mouth slowly to answer, eyes darting back and forth between the floor and his eyes.

But she was spared having to reply by an enormous commotion from outside the café.

Adrien didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed at the sight of a man in a garish yellow and red costume hurling giant hotdogs at innocent bystanders out on the street. He looked quickly to Marinette, and was startled by the fierce determination in her eyes.

“You have to get to safety,” she said firmly. All traces of her debilitating stutter had vanished.

“So do you you,” he countered.

“I’m going to help evacuate the café,” she replied smoothly, getting to her feet.

“I’m going to...” he stood and searched wildly around him for a split second, then pointed. “Help that elderly lady cross the street.”

Marinette’s bemused gaze followed his finger to where a hunched, grandmotherly-looking woman was slowly making her way across the street, seemingly oblivious to the enormous and frankly _(ha!)_ obscene rolls of processed meat flying left and right.

Marinette shrugged, and sprinted off into the depths of the café.

Adrien, true to his word, flew out the door, and scooped up the little old lady into his arms on his way across the street, narrowly dodging bundles of meat.

“Excuse me ma’am!” he bellowed, setting her down brusquely on the relatively safer street, and without losing momentum, fled into a neighboring alley and leapt into a dumpster.

“Plagg! Transform me!”

“In a second, look at this perfectly good cheese...”

“NOW!”

The kwami, who had already taken a bite of the obviously moldy wedge, gave a heavily burdened sigh and complied.

The dumpster shone with green light for a moment before Chat Noir climbed out, wasting no time in expanding his staff and flying up to the rooftops, leaping over one by one back to the scene of the crime.

“I AM THE FRANKENHURTER, AND I’LL BE DAMNED IF THE VEGANS PUT ME OUT OF BUSINESS!”

Chat paused on a rooftop right above the akumatized civillian, taking inventory of what he was up against and deciding what the best course of action would be until Ladybug showed up. Of their own accord, his eyes wandered from the supervillian to the crowds fleeing the scene, scanning for blue-black hair and hot pink jeans.

“Well well well, look what the cat dragged in.”

Chat whipped his head up to smirk at Ladybug, who was swinging her yo-yo in a casual circle. How did she manage to look so good, _all the time?_

“Just in time, my Lady. I was _feline_ lonely without you.”

She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “I don’t know what’s worse: that pun, or your stench.” She gingerly plucked a banana peel off his shoulder.

“Desperate times _claw_ for desperate measures, Bugaboo.” Chat grinned.

“Jokes later, alley cat. Saving Paris now,” Ladybug chided, flicking his ear as she leaned down beside him. “Do you have any theories on where the akuma is?”

“Probably in that red and yellow umbrella.” Chat nodded toward where the Frankenhurter had detached the umbrella from his stand and was now twirling it impressively. A long string of sausages spiraled out of it, knocking civilians aside and causing severe traffic jams that were quickly radiating out from the epicenter of his attack.

“Good guess. You take the defensive- protect the citizens, stop those sausages, and divert his attention. I’ll take the offensive on him and the umbrella.”

Chat nodded, and launched himself off the roof.

Three abducted vegans, about twelve-hundred hot dogs, and one lucky charm in the form of a meat grinder later, Paris was at peace once more, and the man previously known as The Frankenhurter had been instilled with the sudden inspiration to create the world’s best meatless hot dog.

Why couldn’t be conversation with Marinette be this easy?

“I’m amazed that you made it here before I did, Chat,” Ladybug grinned, still panting as they shared their ceremonial fist bump. “I was already in the area.”

“As was I.” He glanced at his surroundings, excited at the prospect that Ladybug, unmasked, could have been within fifty (Twenty? Ten? Five?!) feet of him just a short while ago. His eyes settled on the school, and his heart gave a hopeful jump.

“Could it be possible that my Lady goes to the Collége...?” he hinted, leaning into her. She pushed him away, turning up her nose with a smile.

“Not too close, Kitty,” she evaded. “You still smell like trash. And I could ask the same of you.”

Chat’s heart skipped a beat. Never had she done anything other than shut down the subject of their secret identities. His reply slipped out before he even considered his words.

“I’ll have you know that I was on a date.”

Ladybug’s eyes widened, and Chat stiffened. _It was not a date!_ He yelled internally. _YOU DO NOT HAVE A CRUSH ON MARINETTE!_

“You really are a heartbreaker, aren’t you Chat?” she smiled, folding her arms triumphantly.

“No, Ladybug! Never, I didn’t mean-“

“Amazing. The cat loses his cool at last,” she drawled, tinkling his bell.

“It was a joke, my Lady,” Chat quickly recovered, allowing a cat-like grin to spread across his face and hoping that his mask fully covered his flushed cheeks. “I thought if I could make you jealous...”

Thankfully she laughed, going along with the excuse. “You’re incorrigible, Chat. You’ll never win my heart by those means.”

“So there _is_ a way to win your heart!” he clutched his chest dramatically, and took her hand to kiss it delicately.

Her Miraculous beeped, and she removed her fingers from his, flicking his nose on the way up.

“There’s a way to every girl’s heart,” she said mysteriously as she wound up her yoyo, “As long as you can appreciate who she really is under the mask.”

* * *

 

Adrien was still mulling over Ladybug’s words by the time class reconvened after lunch.

Was it an invitation to try and figure out who her alter-ego was, or legitimate advice? Did she actually want Chat to win her heart, or was she only teasing him as per usual? And did he keep trying to apply her advice to Marinette?!

As if on cue, there was a tap on his shoulder.

He turned to Nino, who smiled devilishly and flicked his eyes backwards.

Marinette was waving to him surreptitiously. After making sure the teacher wasn’t looking, she passed him a small paper bag.

He gave her a confused look, but took the bag graciously and turned around, opening it under his desk with unsteady fingers.

In the bag was a handful of brown and pink macarons. They were accompanied by a note written on a piece of torn notebook paper, which had a portion of a doodle of some discarded fashion sketch in the corner.

‘Sorry that our lunch was cut short! I don’t know if you had time to eat so I brought some free samples back from the bakery just in case.’ The note was signed with a happy face and her name.

His stomach grumbled - he’d completely forgotten to eat. Making sure the teacher was still facing the board, he took a bite of one of the macarons and immediately began a note in reply:

‘I did forget to eat! These are delicious.’

He hesitated, and then before he could lose his nerve, added: ‘Let’s raincheck on lunch?’ and folded up the note, tossing it back to her. She caught it deftly.

Adrien willed his heart to slow as he awaited her response. One minute. Two minutes. Five minutes. Ten minutes. He fought the urge to turn around in his seat. What was taking her so long? It was just a yes or no question! Had he been too forward again? No one wanted to be friends with someone who was pushy and desperate. _God_ , he was an idiot. This was the last time he ever tried to make friends-

A small, folded note landed neatly on his desk.

He waited a moment, not wanting to seem too eager, practically vibrating, then slowly opened it.

‘Sure.’ A tiny heart was doodled next to the word.

Ten minutes for one word?!

And yet... he couldn’t stop staring at the little heart next to it.

The bell rang, startling him out of his reverie, and Adrien began to pack up, seeing hand-drawn hearts every time he blinked. As Marinette passed his desk, he waved goodbye. She blushed prettily and gave a timid smile before going back to her conversation with Alya, the smile growing wider as she started gesticulating wildly about something or other.

Adrien tuned Nino out as they visited the lockers to get their books for English Literature. His lunch with Marinette, as well as Ladybug’s advice, had only made him more determined to get Marinette to like him. But _how?_ How was he going to bring her out of her shell and get to the Marinette who gushed excitedly with Alya? Who stood up passionately to Chloé, and made easy conversation with Nino, and made banners for Alix, and even bantered sarcastically with Chat Noir?

And that’s when it hit him.

Adrien had an idea.

And it would require a lot of Camembert to make it work.


	2. going undercover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien has a plan. 
> 
> (It goes wrong.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So since the episodes aren't aired in a specific order, I kind of took liberties with the continuity. I imagine all of this taking place before the Gamer and KungFood episodes, so Adrien hasn't seen her room and she's also not as comfortable with him as she grows to be in those episodes. It's bothersome because I like to stay as close to canon as possible, but it's hard when we don't even really know what the timeline is. 
> 
> As always, much thanks to @hearjessroar, who dragged me into the dumpster that is this fandom. 
> 
> Anyway. Chat's an idiot. Enjoy.

The next evening found Chat Noir at the rooftop across the street from Marinette’s balcony.

If it had been up to him he’d have been there the day before, when all this madness started. But the timing worked out, having a patrol with Ladybug later tonight. That, and he didn’t want Marinette to become suspicious, what with both Adrien and Chat nosing their ways into her life on the same day. Besides, Plagg had been tired from the battle with The Frankenhurter. It had taken an entire day and a half of nonstop cheese to get the lazy asshole to get on board with his plan.

_I still don’t approve of this,_ the kwami drawled in his head.

“Only because you’d rather be home drowning yourself in expensive cheese,” Adrien muttered, keeping his eyes trained on Marinette’s darkened window.

He felt more than heard Plagg’s neither-here-nor-there shrug.

Suddenly, the light in Marinette’s room flicked on, and Chat’s ears flicked up in alert. He watched as she pulled some nightclothes out of a drawer before disappearing behind a green partition.

The next fifteen minutes felt like eons. Chat fiddled with his ring. Tapped his foot. Started pacing. Tousled his hair into a disarray. Picked at a scuff on his boot. Tousled his hair into a different disarray. Bit at his claws. Brainstormed cat puns.

Before he could figure out a way to incorporate “hairball” into his repertoire, The bathroom door opened, revealing Marinette dressed in polka-dotted sleep shorts and a white t-shirt, sans-pigtails.

Adrien blushed furiously, while Chat sported a cat-like grin. It was quite the identity crisis.

He extended his staff and used it to vault himself over the street and onto Marinette’s balcony. Finding the trapdoor he’d spotted from across the street, he knocked three times.

For a moment, silence. And then, the trapdoor opened.

Marinette was looking up at him from her bed, and the shock was written clearly on her face, her eyes wide and mouth gaping. It was only there for a split second before it settled into a wry grin.

“Hello Chaton,” she said sarcastically. “What, may I ask, brings you stalking to my door on this fine night?”

“Why, Princess, it’s almost as if you’re glad to see me.” He swallowed, ignoring the things her loose hair was doing to the wiring in his brain. _“_ I was passing by your rooftop on my way to patrol with Ladybug, and thought I’d swing by and say hello to my favorite civilian.”

“A visit from Chat Noir!” She put on a breathy voice, clasping her hands together and rolling her eyes. “What a lucky girl I am!”

Chat tried to dim down his wide smile, but failed spectacularly. Why couldn’t she banter with Adrien like this?

“Unlucky,” he corrected. “Many go out of their way to avoid black cats, Princess.”

“Maybe,” she said thoughtfully. “But I like to think I’ve been having enough good luck lately to balance out your intrusion.”

There was a small, private smile on her face as she gazed off into the depths of her room, and a burst of _something_ rushed through Chat, wanting to know what put it there, and wanting to be the cause of it. He pushed it down stubbornly and cleared his throat.

“Princess, I must admit I didn’t come just to say hello.”

She brought her attention back to where he hovered above her bed.

“Is that so?”

Chat grinned mysteriously and poked his head into the room. “May I come in?”

She twisted her mouth, considering. “Fine. But be quiet, and no boots on the bed.”

Complying, Chat summersaulted silently onto her bed, landing so that his feet were dangling over the guardrail of the loft bed. Marinette quietly shut the trap door and settled back in against her pillows.

“Not that I mind the visit,” she said slowly, “But couldn’t you ask Ladybug for advice? Since you guys are partners.”

Chat shoved away the uncomfortable feeling in his chest, remembering how he’d practiced his answer to this inevitable question. “I wouldn’t want her to get the wrong idea.”

“About what?”

He gave her a sideways glance. “A girl.”

She immediately blushed, and Chat chuckled. He was getting rather fond of that habit of hers, and found himself wanting to be the cause of it more often.

“You’re sneaking into my bedroom to ask for _girl advice?”_ She hissed. “I _know_ you must have guy friends to talk to about this.”

“How would a guy give better advice about girls than a _girl_ would?” He countered.

“Well how about _actual_ girl friends?”

He frowned. “You _are_ my friend.”

She raised an eyebrow. “We’ve met twice. You must not have very many friends.”

“We’ve partnered up in the throes of battle, Princess. That makes us friends.” He scanned her room, keeping an eye open for clues about the inner workings of Marinette. The pink walls (the pink _everything)_ , the umbrella chaise, the dressform in the corner, the desktop computer, the posters of -

“UM!”

He looked back at her, startled at her sudden outburst. She was very red.

“Yes?”

“Well, I- um.” Back, inexplicably, was the stuttering Marinette. She kept glancing back at a spot in the room beyond him. He frowned, starting to follow her gaze, but she reached out and grabbed his hand.

It was only for a second and there was a layer of leather suit between them. But even still, her hand was warm, and butterflies shot through his stomach at the touch.

“What did you want to talk about?”

He shifted so that he could face her, and her anxiety seemed to lessen. He tucked his right leg under, left leg dangling, being careful not to tread dirt onto her duvet. Now that he was here, in front of her, _in her room, ON HER BED,_ he’d all but forgotten everything he’d thought to talk to her about beforehand. With difficulty, he drew a deep breath and tried to focus.

“How do you get people to talk to you?”

Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

He picked up his tail and started twirling it lightly. “I’m normally pretty good at making friends, and making small talk, being the charming Chat I am,” he began, and she rolled her eyes. “But there’s this one girl I want to-“

_Date!_ His brain unhelpfully supplied.

“-Be friends with, and I can barely get her to speak in full sentences around me.”

Marinette considered this. “Do you know anything about her? People usually like to talk about themselves.”

“That’s the thing,” Chat said, ditching his tail and splaying out his hands in frustration. “I only know maybe two things about her, and when I try to talk about those things, or find out more, she clams up. It’s like she’s... afraid of me or hates me or something.”

“Well, you are pretty intimidating dressed like that,” she smiled, poking his arm. “The eyes are kind of off-putting.”

He rolled his eyes. “Well I don’t make a habit of talking to her in this getup.” Although, as he took her in, hair loose and completely relaxed with a smile just for him, he thought he might just like to make a habit of dropping in unannounced.

_Just until I can find out enough to get her to talk to me,_ he thought. _And not because she looks really. Really. Cute._

Thankfully, Marinette was looking down, thinking, and didn’t see Chat’s blush. “Maybe she doesn’t like to talk about herself. Some people are listeners, you know? Maybe she’d rather listen to you talk, especially if-“

She clamped her mouth shut, looking away.

“Especially if what?” he urged, leaning forward.

She avoided his eyes, smiling. “Well, Chat, I don’t want to boost your ego any higher than it already is...”

“I assure you my Princess, I will do my best to remain humble.”

Marinette sighed in defeat. “Have you ever considered that she might _like_ you?”

Chat stared blankly. “If she likes me, then why won’t she talk to me?”

“No,” Marinette said, very slowly. “I mean. That she _like-likes_ you. Has a crush on you.”

Chat felt his ears turn red.

“I only say that because. Well. I know I’m the same way with my crush. So maybe this girl is the same.”

He nearly choked. Marinette had a crush on someone?

His heart fell and leapt at the same time. She liked someone else. But why did that matter, if he just wanted to be her friend? But if Marinette had a crush on someone... and if his description reminded her of herself... then was it coincidence, or did that mean her crush was him? Could that be possible? He had no idea what a girl in love was supposed to look like - he rarely had time to watch TV and movies with all of his time commitments, and were the few he’d seen really indicative of how people acted in real life? He’d thought Chloé liked him, and she had no problem talking to him. And talking. And talking.

“What, no boasting?”

Marinette’s voice wrenched him out of his reverie. She was looking at him with amusement, arms folded. “No ‘ _of course she’d have a crush on the flawless Chat Noir,’_ or ‘ _I just can’t keep them away?’”_

“I- well-“

Adrien’s brain was still short circuiting and no amount of Chat’s bravado could cover it up at the moment. All he could do was sit there, at a loss for words, feeling the blush creep up his neck.

“You must really like her.”

Marinette’s voice was startlingly soft. She had her knees hugged to her chest and her chin propped up on them, smiling a small, unreadable smile. He was arrested by it completely.

“Is it possible that my Princess is jealous?”

The bravado had come thundering back out of nowhere, and Chat bit his tongue, almost wishing it had stayed wherever it was hidden. Her eyes, _so_ blue, were hypnotizing, and he found himself leaning closer, magnetized-

She snorted, grinning, and the spell was broken. “Since when am I _your_ Princess, Chaton? I can see now why you didn’t want to tell Ladybug.”

“It’s not like that!” Chat tried to explain hurriedly. “It’s just that-“

“Your heart belonging to three girls, oh!” she exclaimed breathlessly, bringing a dramatic hand to her forehead. “What a tiresome life you must lead.”

“But I wasn’t- I didn’t-“

He knew she was joking, but for some reason he couldn’t stand her thinking he was some kind of heartbreaking alleycat.

“It’s getting late, Chaton,” she said, tickling under his chin in a gesture that was achingly familiar. “You’d better get to your patrol, or you’ll be missed.”

Surprisingly, being reminded of his meeting with Ladybug didn’t excite him as it usually would. He wanted to stay here with Marinette, picking her brain, watching her smile, making her blush-

Oh, it was _definitely_ time to go.

“Thank you for lending me your ear, Princess,” he reached up to open the trapdoor, then flipped up to hook his knees on the ground above, hanging to face her.

“You’re the cat’s pajamas,” he teased, swinging dangerously close and reaching a claw out to the collar of her t-shirt.

She caught his shoulders, keeping him there.

“You want my advice, Chat?” she whispered. She was _far_ too close, and his knees were trembling, threatening to give in.

She leaned in closer and whispered in his ear:

“Follow your instincts.”

She pushed him away, and he used the momentum to swing himself up and out out of her room, extending his staff and immediately vaulting away from her roof, fleeing from those big blue eyes, the scent of her closeness.

Even soaring through the air, the cool wind beside him, his heart refused to slow. Marinette was _everywhere -_ the mingling scents of flour and flowers and _girl_ , her eyes behind his eyelids when he blinked, her smile echoed on his own lips.

He gave a particularly daring and aggressive leap across a roof. He _couldn’t_ have a crush on Marinette, right?

* * *

“You’re distracted.”

Chat, zoning out into the peaceful street below, tore his eyes away from nothing and looked up at his partner.

These weekly patrols weren’t _really_ for the sake of the city, he knew. Ladybug and Chat Noir were _friends,_ and though neither of them had specifically said so, patrols were an excuse to hang out with each other, talk outside the battlefield, bond. A teambuilding exercise.

He usually waited with bated breath all week for these. Today, he’d rather be alone with his scrambled thoughts. Or back in Marinette’s ludicrously pink room.

“I could say the same about you, my Lady.”

She sighed, but didn’t answer. The patrol, usually filled with pointless banter and laughter, was unusually silent that night.

She finally spoke. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

There was a funny look on Ladybug’s face, but Chat couldn’t quite place it. “Of course, my Lady. Back ‘atcha.”

He supplemented this with a wink, but she was unaffected.

“Maybe we should end the patrol early,” she said, looking down at the street below. “I don’t think anyone is getting akumatized tonight.”

“No!” Chat protested, moving closer. “Apologies, Lady. My attention is fully yours.”

She smiled down at the street, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Clearly it isn’t,” she muttered bitterly.

Chat stared at her, aghast. She was irritated at him, he realized now. But since when had she craved his attention? At all?

“What?” he finally managed.

“Chat, do you like me?”

The question was stunning - literally. He stood quite still, taking in the question. He managed to recover and grin, reaching for her hand. “My love for you knows no bounds, as you know, my Bugaboo.” He ignored the guilty flash of Marinette’s face in his mind.

She yanked away her hand before he had a chance to kiss it. “I’m not _your_ anything,” she bit out quietly, looking away.

Chat blinked, taken aback. Her words were so much like Marinette’s, and the Chat-ish facade was shutting down in his confusion. Why was she angry? What had he done wrong?

“I-I was kidding, Ladybug,” he stuttered. He’d never felt more _Adrien-_ like in his entire life.

“So which is it,” she turned on him, eyes stony. “Is it a joke, or is it serious?”

“I don’t know, I-“

His brain was all turned around. He thought back to Valentine’s Day, when he’d been so set on confessing to her... but now he balked at the thought; he had never truly thought about the line between teasing with Ladybug and his real feelings. And where was this coming from? Since when did she care about whether or not he actually liked her? Did this have to do with what she’d said after the battle yesterday?

Was she more interested in him than she let on?

Ladybug took a breath, looking back down at the city. Silver moonlight and golden streetlights danced in her eyes.

He ached to push, to get it out of her. But he didn’t want that. Not like this, anyway.

“I don’t understand,” Chat said, fighting to keep his voice neutral. “I’m sorry for whatever I did wrong. Please don’t be mad.”

When she looked back at him, there was false cheer in her smile. The mask was back on.

“Just forget it, okay? I’m really tired. I’ll see you next week? Hopefully not before, for Paris’ sake”

Chat blinked, mouth opening and closing aimlessly. “But. Ladybug. I-“

“Later Chat,” she said, tinkling his bell briefly as she breezed by. She had swung her yoyo and zipped away before Chat could do so much as breathe.

He heard his ring beep, signaling that even a day and a half’s worth of cheese could only hold a transformation for so long. But he stood in Ladybug’s wake, mind blank in bewilderment, the ghost of her finger at his neck.

* * *

The next day was torture.

He barely got any sleep after the events of the night before, which left him ruffled and puffy-eyed. His stylist was going to kill him - just the thought of the photoshoot he had scheduled later today made him want to cry out of exhaustion.

Nino clapped his back in sympathy. “Stay up all night looking at yourself in the mirror?”

Adrien rolled his eyes, shoving his friend away and laying his head down on the desk. Maybe he’d be able to catch a few minutes of sleep before class started.

But as soon as he closed his eyes, thoughts flooded his brain just as they had last night. Marinette’s crush. Ladybug’s anger. Following his instincts. Round and round his brain went, and Adrien had no hopes of stopping it.

Just then he caught a familiar whiff of flour, and was suddenly wide awake.

Marinette was passing by his desk as he lifted his head, and he was surprised to see that she looked just as tired as he did. He didn’t think he’d kept her up _that_ late with his visit...

Class began presently, and Adrien found it impossible to focus, what with his sleep-deprived mind, the teacher’s droning voice, and Marinette’s presence like the unbearable heat of the sun behind him.

He couldn’t take it anymore. He had to do something.

_Follow your instincts._

Ripping a page out of his notebook, on which he’d failed to write a single word from today’s lecture, he scribbled a note.

‘Long night? -A’

He folded up the paper neatly, turned around, and placed it on Marinette’s desk with a bright smile.

He turned back around before he could see her reaction, but a few minutes later (a big improvement from last time), the note was returned, slid across the desk from Nino.

‘Fashion never sleeps. You too? - M’

He hastily scrawled a reply.

‘You stole my excuse. By the way, I’ve been craving those macarons ever since Wednesday. -A’

Her reply was almost instantaneous this time: ‘Feel free to stop by the bakery any time you want some! I don’t know if I can steal any more free samples... Also you never said, what’s your favorite dessert? -M’

Even though it was in writing, it was the most words she’d ever said to him. Adrien felt as if he could stay awake through this afternoon’s photoshoot, and five more photoshoots after that.

‘Impossible question. Chocolate croissants, crème brûlée, ice cream... Though I’m not allowed to eat them too often because of modeling. - A’ He penned a small crying face and passed it back.

‘I didn’t realize diets were so strict in the modeling industry. I’ll have to sneak you more desserts! What is it like to be a model? -M’

Adrien could have jumped for joy. Actual! Conversation!

“Mostly kind of boring. Sometimes I get to fly to cool places for fashion shows, but mostly it’s a lot of photoshoots when I should be doing homework instead. -A’

‘I never knew the life of a model was so stressful. Fashion design gets in the way of my homework too, but at least it’s by my own choice, so losing sleep is my own fault. -M’

‘Fashion design seems way cooler than modeling. What’s your favorite type of clothing to design? -A’

The rest of the period was spent in notes, passed covertly when the teacher wasn’t looking. They didn’t talk much about anything other than the fashion industry, but Adrien managed to find out that she liked to design pants best (the hard work was really rewarding), her favorite color was pink (not that he needed her to tell him that), and that she signed everything she made (which he technically knew from the hat contest, but relished in the pride it brought her anyway).

When the bell rang, Adrien was actually disappointed that time had flown so fast.

On her way out the door with Alya, Marinette gave him a hesitant smile. He grinned back. “Seeya Marinette.”

“Seeya.” She smiled more confidently, and Adrien’s heart skipped a beat or two.

Despite the disaster of last night, he was instilled with hope. He’d found a way to make Marinette more comfortable with him. Sure, it would draw his attention away from class but... what had all of those years of private tutoring been for, if not to talk to cute girls in class and learn the material later at home?

_Nice_ girls, he amended. Because he _didn’t_ have a crush on Marinette.

Even if he lost a little bit of conviction every time he told it to himself.


	3. catch a glimpse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien is totally in control of the situation. 
> 
> (He's not.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long wait (are people even waiting for this to update? lol) I had no idea what direction to take the story in until last weekend, when Origins inspired me to get my ass in gear. Hopefully the fact that this chapter is nearly double of my usual length will make up for it. 
> 
> With every new episode that comes out my plot steers farther and farther away from canon, but I'm trying my darnedest not to stray too far. Small references to canon will have to do for now before I have to abandon it completely. Sigh. 
> 
> Anyway thanks as always to my friend to whom I am united under the spirit of the coconut bra (you know who you are). 
> 
> These children give me such enjoyment. I hope they give you some too :3

“So. Tell me about this boy that you have a crush on.”

It was the fifth night that he’d dropped by Marinette’s room as Chat. He’d long since abandoned the excuse of her house being on his way to patrol, as well as that of needing girl advice. In fact, the subject of girls hadn’t even come up in the myriad topics they’d discussed. He’d managed to find out that her favorite musician was Jagged Stone, she preferred tea over coffee (with no milk and two sugars), she was an only child, she played Ultimate Mecha Strike III with her dad every Sunday morning, she was excellent at cooking the perfect cheese toast, she kept a diary that she assured Chat he would never, _ever_ find, and she had an adorable way of wiggling her butt when she was excited.

That last one she hadn’t technically told him, but he knew now just the same.

He also knew that he should feel guilty for using the little tidbits of her life that he found out as Chat to help him get closer to her as Adrien, but all he could bring himself to feel was elation at feeling connected to her.

And since both he and Chat were the same person at the end of the day, he wasn’t _technically_ being dishonest, was he?

However, as friendly as they’d gotten in the past two weeks, she clearly didn’t deem that enough time to allow unwarranted questions about her love life. She shoved his shoulder away from where it was nearly brushing hers against the pillows.

“No, chaton.”

“Why not?” he wheedled.

“Because it’s none of your business,” she declared, crossing her arms.

He leaned his face in close to hers, even as she leaned away. “Pleeeeease, Princess? I’m so curious.”

“You know what they say about curiosity and cats,” she muttered darkly, pushing his face away.

He pouted, gazing up from underneath his mask at her with big, green cat eyes. She put on the cutest little frown, eyes narrowed, before she huffed out a sigh.

“Fine. I’ll tell you about my crush if you tell me about yours first.”

A feline grin spread across his face. “I told you I don’t have a crush on her. But sure. Deal.”

They shook on it, and he leaned back into the pillows, grinning at the mischievousness of it all.

“Well... she goes to my school. She sits... near me in class-“

“Fascinating,” Marinette quipped dryly.

“Hush,” he reprimanded, placing a clawed finger to her lips as she giggled. He continued, “She’s pretty quiet, like I told you. But lately she’s been opening up more. I think I’m starting to grow on her.” He met her eyes quickly before smiling and looking away. “Even though she’s shy, I can tell that she’s confident on the inside. I’ve seen her stand up to bullies at school, and she’s always the first to help those in need. Sometimes she’ll get a kind of light in her eyes, like she’s not afraid of anything.”

He trailed away, letting his mind run silently for a moment. “I don’t know. I’d like her to be like that around me, too. I know she’s the kind of person I want to have by my side.”

The silence stretched, and he looked back at her.

She was staring at him with wide eyes, mouth forming a tiny “o,” as if she couldn’t quite make sense of what he’d just said.

But her surprised expression melted almost as soon as he caught it, replaced by cool skepticism. “Sounds like a pretty miraculous girl.”

He wondered if she’d intended the double meaning, but now that he thought about it, there _were_ a lot of similarities between Ladybug and Marinette. He smiled to himself. It seemed that he had a type.

Chat shook his head, unwilling to allow his mind to go down that path. Marinette wasn’t his type of _anything._ She was just a friend.

“Your turn, Princess.”

She bit her lip, considering. He poked her until she swatted his hand away and replied.

“The thing is, I’m not really sure.”

“You’re not sure why you like your crush?”

“No,” she said slowly, avoiding his eyes. “I’m just not sure... _who_ I like. Anymore.”

Chat’s heart thumped rather loudly against his ribs.

“A heart divided!” he declared, allowing his bravado to take the reins. “An unfaithful dame!”

She tugged his arm down from where he’d flung it out dramatically. “Shut up, idiot! I knew you’d make fun of me.”

“I’m not,” he amended quickly, dropping the antics. “You can talk to me, Princess.”

She side-eyed him suspiciously, then took a deep breath.

“I’ve liked this boy in my class for a long time. So long that it’s almost like... a habit, I don’t know. But lately... I’ve been getting to know... someone else.”

Chat’s heart, previously thudding vehemently, now stopped dead in its tracks.

“Someone else?” he said quietly.

“Someone who I _never_ thought I’d _ever_ like. In that way.”

“Like-like?” Chat whispered, leaning in closer.

“Yeah,” she whispered back, tentatively meeting his eyes.

“Why,” Chat swallowed roughly. “Did you never think you’d never like him?”

That light was in her eyes, unapologetic and bold.

“He’s annoying,” she began.

He leaned in closer. “Yeah?”

“And full of himself,” she continued, a smile playing at her lips.

“Go on,” he grinned slowly.

“And has no sense of personal space-“

He was now so close that their noses were only an inch apart.

“How irritating,” he drawled. Her eyelashes fluttered.

“And to top it all off, he seems to have an inclination toward mind-bendingly _awful_ puns.”

This time she was the one leaning in. Their noses bumped.

“‘Dunno princess,” he breathed. “He sounds pretty _purr_ fect to me.”

She said nothing and the silence was charged, sparkling. She reached up in the nearly nonexistent space in between them to scratch at his chin and then held her thumb there, tilting his head down just so-

His ring beeped.

Marinette whipped her head around to look at the clock, and the electricity between them escaped into thin air.

“Oh god, it’s midnight! You have to go chaton. I- we have school tomorrow.”

But he didn’t miss the way her gaze slipped down to his lips. His heart flew.

“Until next time, then,” he grinned, and because he simply couldn’t help it, he leaned in pecked her on the cheek before purring into her ear: “Good luck with that _devilishly_ handsome crush, my Princess.”

She shoved him away as he cackled, launching himself up through the trapdoor and into the night, heart soaring faster than his baton could take him.

* * *

‘Are you KIDDING? Chat Noir is the coolest! - A’

‘Please!! He’s so full of himself. - M’

’So you’re telling me if he asked you out on a date you’d flat out refuse? - A’

‘Well obviously. Dating Chat Noir would put me in significant danger. - M’

‘Aha! So you wouldn’t date him not because you don’t think he’s cool, but because he’s dangerous! - A’

‘It was hypothetical, Adrien. And pay attention, Ms. Monster is onto us. -M’

Adrien tore his eyes away from where she’d penned his name in pink gel pen just in time. Sure enough, Ms. Mendeleiev was glaring at him suspiciously.

“What’s that you have there, Mr. Agreste?”

“My notes,” Adrien blurted out automatically.

She narrowed her eyes. “And since when do you take notes in _pink ink?”_

“They’re color-coded,” he said, pulling the paper toward him defensively.

Assessing his undoubtedly guilty face, Ms. Mendeleiev scowled. “Considering that finals are in a mere matter of weeks, I advise that you spend less time passing notes with your friends and more time grasping the concept of the pythagorean theorem.”

“Yes ma’am,” Adrien muttered, sliding down slightly in his chair.

“Due to your stellar record in my class previously I’ll let this one slide, but I assure you that next time I’ll have you read whatever it is that you consider more important than my lecture out loud to the class, word for word.”

“Yes ma’am.” Adrien slid down as far as possible without falling off the chair entirely.

There were a few giggles as Ms. Mendeleiev turned back around to the whiteboard, but Adrien didn’t hear them. He was too busy staring at his name in Marinette’s handwriting.

Class ended presently and Adrien shoved his messages with Marinette back into his notebook and out of his mind.

“Hey.”

He looked up from where he was packing away his things to Marinette, who was standing in front of his desk and smiling sheepishly. He had to remind himself that it was Chat, not Adrien, who she had almost kissed last night, and so he had no right to be staring at her mouth the way he was now.

“Hey,” he replied, grinning in return, forcing his eyes up to hers.

“Um, sorry you got in trouble,” she laughed, averting her gaze.

“No worries.” He allowed his grin to slide into a small smirk. “It was worth it.”

She blushed furiously, to his great pleasure. When she opened her mouth he expected a string of nonsense-stuttering, but he was taken aback by the confidence in her voice, so often expressed around Chat but never Adrien.

“Well as much as I enjoy our chats, I think they may be getting in the way of our schoolwork.”

“Oh,” he replied, crestfallen. _Selfish, selfish, selfish!_ “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“But I would like to take you up on that raincheck.”

For a moment, Adrien wasn’t sure if his heart had stopped or picked up ten paces.

“Y-yeah? Really? I mean, me too. That would be cool. How about during lunch tomorrow?”

“Actually, I promised Alya I’d help her start studying for the math final tomorrow during lunch. B-but...” she seemed to lose confidence for a moment, folding in on herself, before standing up tall again. “But I’m free this weekend!”

She nearly shouted the suggestion, and Adrien wholeheartedly matched her sentiment. “Yes!”

His enthusiasm seemed to startle her, because her eyes went wide and she seemed to be struck speechless. _Too much, tone it down, all the way down!_

“I mean,” he amended casually, easing out of his chair and walking with her to the door, “I’ll have to check my schedule. My dad rarely lets me out on weekends but I’ll see if he can make an exception.”

He leaned against the doorway of the classroom and, in a burst of unadulterated confidence, winked at her.

To his surprise, she only blinked a couple (hundred) times before smiling. “Hopefully he can make an exception on his strict diet policy too. I’ll give you my number so we can coordinate?”

Adrien stared at the hand she held out to him, taking far too long to realize that she was waiting for him to present his phone. How had she managed to gain control of the conversation so effortlessly? His brain wasn’t working too well off only a few hours of sleep.

Astonished at her newfound confidence, his eyes never left her face as he took his phone from his bag and placed it in her hand, nor as she looked down to type in her number, and not even as she handed it back to him. He continued to stand, frozen in place, as she waved goodbye and ran off down the hall to catch up with Alya.

His befuddlement lasted a total of about thirty seconds, by which time he fully realized that he had almost certainly committed to a date with Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Something akin to panic alit his bones.

“Ready for lunch?” Nino sidled up beside him.

Adrien jumped. “It’s not a date!”

“You tell ‘em, brother,” Nino replied, patting him bracingly on the shoulder and grinning like the cat that caught the canary. Adrien frowned, disliking the fact that for once he was not the cat in this situation.

But Nino seemed to sense his great distress and did what all great friends knew to do in situations such as these: he changed the subject.

“So are you going to that ball the mayor is holding for Ladybug and Chat Noir next week?”

“Oh my god,” Adiren clapped a hand over his forehead. “I completely forgot!”

“All those photoshoots are going to your head,” Nino felt Adrien’s forehead tragically before Adrien shoved him away playfully.

“I probably won’t have time to go,” Adrien lied on the spot. “I bet you anything my dad will schedule a photoshoot the day of, just to make sure there’s no chance of me having any fun. Ever.”

“Well if you _were_ going,” Nino insisted, “Who would you take?”

“Who would I take...”

“As your _date,”_ Nino punched him lightly in the arm, smiling knowingly.

Adrien narrowed his eyes. Something told him Nino’s intention hasn’t actually been to change the subject.

But the question still stood.

While his friendship with Marinette had flourished over the past couple of weeks, both with Adrien and Chat, that of Chat’s and Ladybug’s seemed to be withering. She hadn’t lashed out at him since patrol that night, maintaining the eerie visage of nonchalance, but their work was suffering. Villains were taking longer and longer to defeat, and Adrien was starting to wonder if it was because Hawkmoth was sending burlier henchmen, or because he and Ladybug were getting more and more out of sync.

Whatever she’d been upset about was lingering heavily between them, and he had no idea how to clear it away. How could he fix what he’d done without even knowing what it was? He trusted Ladybug to confess to him what was troubling her in her own time, but it was clear that she was determined to keep it from him.

And as Ladybug’s smiles became more strained, Marinette’s increasingly confident grin became more magnetic.

Obviously Chat Noir would be showing up to the party, with or without a date. But if in the perfect, unattainable and idealistic vacuum of a universe in which Adrien Agreste was able to choose between Marinette and Ladybug to take to the party... as it stood he would have chosen Marinette.

And, he thought with a skip in his heart, in the messy and very real universe in which he was currently living, he was pretty sure even Chat Noir would make the same choice.

He wrenched himself out of his runaround thoughts, and shot a guarded glance at Nino in lieu of answering the question.

“Oh come _on,_ man. We’re _bros,_ and bros talk to each other about _everything._ If you have a crush on Marinette-“

“I don’t have a crush on Marinette.”

“If you’re in denial about having a crush on Marinette-“

“I want her to be my friend,” Adrien clarified as they walked out into the courtyard, rushing to continue when Nino raised a skeptical eyebrow and opened his mouth to retort. “It sounds stupid but... She’s the only person I can’t seem to make friends with. And somehow, that makes it really, _really_ important that I make friends with her. So yeah.”

It wasn’t completely true; he’d left out all the bits he’d explained to Marinette herself the night before. But it was the simpler version.

“Are you sure she’s not still mad because you stuck gum on her seat on your first day?” Nino chuckled.

“Tried to _unstick_ the gum from her seat you mean,” Adrien shot back, frowning. “And I’ve made it up to her a hundred times over by now. She just, I dunno, _hates_ me or something. Or is scared of me. Do I look scary to you?”

He leaned in close to Nino’s face, but was surprised by his silence. The look on his face was strange.

“What?” he frowned, leaning away. “So I _am_ scary?”

Nino grinned, huffing out a laugh. “Nah man. You’re just...”

But he seemed to give up on what he was planning to say, and settled on smiling at Adrien fondly.

They reached the bottom of the steps, and Adrien made to head toward his car but Nino clasped his shoulder before they parted.

“I’m here for you dude, okay? You can tell me anything. I mean it.”

Adrien blinked. All of the things that he _couldn’t_ tell Nino suddenly flashed in his mind.

He smiled anyway at the sentiment. “Yeah, okay.”

“Bros?” Nino held out a fist.

Adrien bumped it. “Bros.”

As he waved goodbye to Nino, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

‘Would you be up for dinner instead of lunch?’  
_Recieved at 12:10PM_

She’d entered her name as just “M” in his contacts, and his heart warmed thinking about the multitudes of notes signed with only her initial that he had stashed in his notebook.

'Sure. Pick a time and place and I’ll be there!’  
_Sent at 12:11PM_

By the time he’d climbed in the car and given Natalie a perfunctory account of his morning, Marinette had responded.

‘Les Cocottes at 8 on Saturday?’  
_Recieved at 12:15PM_

‘It’s a date.’  
_Sent at 12:15PM._

He’d sent the text and was gazing happily out the window for about five seconds before he realized what he’d sent.

Panicking, he fumbled for his phone again.

He frantically typed out five followup texts, deleting all of them in turn. Just as he was trying to figure out how to convince her that Nino had somehow gotten a hold of his phone for a split second to send the previous text, she spared him the agony.

‘ :) ‘  
_Received at 12:20PM._

Heart beating madly, Adrien put his phone away hastily before he could screw himself over any worse. And when Natalie inquired as to why he was looking so flushed, he didn’t quite know what to say.

* * *

If Adrien had been in doubt as to whether his and Ladybug’s recent struggle with Akumas was due to the strain on their partnership or to Hawkmoth’s newfound fervor, he was sure now.

It was definitely both.

Two hours into the fight with Grande Jeté on Saturday and Chat was sure he had bruises and cuts that even Ladybug’s Lucky Charm wouldn’t be able to heal in the end. He’d forgotten the details of the enraged ballerina’s story through the overstimulation of adrenaline and his intense focus of making it on time to dinner with Marinette, but one thing was for certain - the Akuma was in one of the dancer’s shoes and it was impossible to reach when the ribbons were slashing like knives at his and Ladybug’s extremities.

Dodging one particularly close shave from a rogue pointe shoe ribbon, he glanced at Ladybug for any semblance of a sign or plan, ready to read her glance and follow immediately, but her eyes remained resolutely away from his. Her Lucky Charm, an oil can, had remained unused for over half an hour, even while she had left to recharge her kwami and returned. He knew she didn’t dare use her power again- Chat wouldn’t be able to hold off the Akuma alone while he was this tired if she had to leave again.

Every man for himself, then. Stifling a frustrated groan, he leaned back on all fours and pounced forward to strike once more.

Two cuts on his face, another bruised finger, and three cramps later, he was back to square one. Again. Ladybug’s attempt didn’t seem to have yielded any more results than his, and she _still_ refused to meet his gaze. The stars in the sky were beginning to wink out of sight, disappearing behind the clouds rolling in.

He slid open his baton, checking the time.

It was 8:30.

His patience had run out.

“Will you just _look_ at me?” He yelled, voice strangled.

As Grand Jeté pirouetted in temporary retreat, Ladybug complied, though he could see the strain in her eyes.

“If you refuse to settle on a plan, then I will,” he said shortly. “I’m going for the ribbons. Use _that_ when the time comes.” He nodded at the oil can.

It looked as if she might protest but Chat didn’t give her the chance. He put all his energy, all his frustration at Ladybug, all his anxiety of leaving Marinette waiting, into one final and reckless leap.

“Cataclysm!” he shouted in midair, soaring straight into the flurry of steel-sharp ribbons, gathering them in his temporarily indestructible hand-

But Ladybug had acted a split second too soon. The oil slick he found beneath his feet as he landed slid one foot out from under him and while three of the ballerina’s ribbons rusted to dust, one shot out desperately as Grand Jeté came crashing down with him.

“LADYBUG!”

Thunder rumbled in the distance and Chat was helpless to protect her when the partially-decayed ribbon struck her directly on the arm, slashing through her suit and leaving a significant gash. She let out a soft gasp of surprise, so small and frightened that panic struck Chat’s heart, cold and icy.

He and Grand Jeté fell and went sliding. Fighting his instinct to run to Ladybug’s side at once, Chat wrestled the near-harmless shoes off the dancer’s feet and scrabbled away desperately through the oilslick.

But Grand Jeté was not giving up that easily. She expertly fought her way to her feet and pivoted, skating toward Chat with preposterously good balance-

“Chat!”

Ladybug’s eyes were blazing when they met his, and the click of _finally_ knowing what she was thinking hit Chat in a wave of determined calm. The panic fled his chest as he threw the shoes to her outstretched hand.

She caught them deftly and smashed them into the ground so hard that the boxes of both shoes crumpled. Out of the left one flew a single, poison-purple butterfly. Grand Jeté stopped in her tracks, falling onto her bottom a few feet away from Chat.

“No more evildoing for you, little Akuma,” she gasped, flinging out her yoyo with her good hand.

“Gotcha.” Though her voice was triumphant, Chat’s eyes were trained on her cut, which was bleeding freely.

By the time she was bidding goodbye to the butterfly and weakly throwing the oil can up into the air, Chat was by her side.

The lucky charm had sealed the rip in her suit shut, but he could tell by the way it bloomed dark over her arm that at least some of the wound had escaped the Miraculous’ particular brand of healing magic.

“How did that hit make it through my suit?” Ladybug muttered, gingerly clutching her arm. “And why didn’t my Lucky Charm heal me?”

“I think it’s because the ribbon was half-Cataclysmed when it hit you,” Chat said shakily, taking her arm in his trembling hands. The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving his body in shambles. All of his cuts had been healed by the lucky charm, but some of the deeper bruises remained at least partially. Kwami magic was an unpredictable thing.

“Our luck must have canceled out,” he continued, trying for a grin.

She chuckled weakly, prising her arm from his grip.

“We have to get you to a hospital.” Chat pushed away the sudden vivid mental picture of Marinette waiting alone at a restaurant table for the time being.

“No,” she said immediately, eyes going wide.

“This is serious, Ladybug,” Chat spat back, anger flaring up again. “Just because you’ve decided to hate me for some reason doesn’t mean I won’t see to it that you get the help you need.”

She looked stung, and he tried to find it in him to feel bad. He couldn’t.

“It’s not that,” she reassured him. “It’s just that. Well, I know I fed my kwami earlier but I don’t know if-“

She paused abruptly, and Chat immediately understood. Detransforming in the middle of a hospital would rase a lot of unwanted questions.

“Okay. Okay, I understand,” he said, forcing his overworked brain to think quickly. “Do you know of anyone who has a first aid kit?”

She took a deep breath, holding her arm tighter and squeezing her eyes shut. She appeared to go through some kind of internal debate, jaw working furiously, before she grit out, “Yes.”

* * *

 

To say that Chat was surprised to find himself on Marinette’s balcony five minutes later with Ladybug would have been an understatement. A better description for his state of mind would be “plagued with crippling anxiety.” In fact, his already overstimulated heart had gone into an overdrive more intense than the one he’d felt in battle. He was an hour late for their dinner and he didn’t know whether or not he wanted Marinette to be at home - if she wasn’t, she was patiently waiting for him to arrive as Adrien. If she was, she’d already given up on him showing up, and was sitting there right now, hating his alter ego, in her room.

When they dropped through the trapdoor and onto Marinette’s bed, she was nowhere to be found. The former, then. His heart lurched sickeningly, but Ladybug’s safety came first. Marinette would be disappointed, but at least she wasn’t in danger of bleeding out.

Before she could protest, he sat her down on the bed and began to look around the room for a first aid kit.

“How do you know Marinette?” he asked, rifling around quickly under her sink through errant papers and toiletries and extracting a small red and white box.

“I had her work with you to defeat the Illustrator, didn’t I?” Ladybug replied, her voice strained. He rushed back up the ladder, opening up the first aid kit.

“So you two are friends?” he asked carefully, eyes down where he was cataloguing what he had to work with from the kit.

When she didn’t answer right away, he met her eyes briefly. For the first time in a while, they were fixed intently on him.

“You could say that,” she said finally.

He didn’t press any further, not trusting himself to refrain from saying something stupid to make her mad again.

“Do you think your kwami be able to fix your suit the next time you transform?” he asked, picking up a small pair of scissors.

Before she could reply, his Miraculous beeped loudly.

“Chat, your ring-“

“I’m going to have to cut it,” he steamrolled on, “Assuming you don’t want to take it off or detransform.”

“Chat,” she said more firmly.

“I’m staying here until I’m sure you’re okay,” he fired back, glaring at her.

“I can do it myself.”

“I’m staying.”

They stared at each other unwaveringly for a moment until his Miraculous beeped a second time, and Ladybug sighed. “You know how I feel about this.”

“Then close your eyes when I get down to zero,” Chat replied, refusing to back down. For whatever reason, her injury was just as much his fault as her own, and he would be damned if he left her side while she was still hurt.

Even if it meant flaking out on Marinette.

Ladybug neither agreed nor disagreed, so he took her arm and got to work.

He carefully cut off the suit just above the elbow, surprised at how easily the fabric yielded; he suspected omniscient kwami magic. Luckily the suit had staunched most of the bleeding, and the cut wasn’t too deep and wouldn’t need stitches, but it was _long,_ covering the span of her forearm.

His ring beeped a third time, as he began to disinfect the wound, and a fourth when he spread antibiotic cream across it.

He was unrolling the bandages when time ran out.

“Chat-“

He cut across her frantic voice calmly. “Close your eyes.”

Her eyes met his for a split second before she slammed them shut, and he felt static green rush over him. Plagg flew out of his ring and immediately retreated to the inside of his shirt, too exhausted to even beg for cheese. 

He paused a moment, feeling off kilter from being Adrien in the presence of his partner. She looked different somehow through his bare eyes, sitting crosslegged in red and black polka dots. Her closed eyes would have given her the appearance of serenity had it not been for the furrow of worry between her eyebrows.

He smiled. “Don’t worry my Lady. The cat’s not out of the bag just yet.”

Her chuckle came out muffled, and she reached out with her good arm to find his head. Once she did she gave it a hearty shove.

Adrien snickered and took her arm once more.

There was no mistaking her sharp intake of breath when his bare skin touched hers. It sent his heart racing and he fought the urge to trace, to _feel_ , forcing his fingers to apply the bandages over the cut instead.

Once he was done, his hands lingered of their own accord. His brain was fried, his body was aching, he couldn’t help it, and she wasn’t pulling away, in fact she was leaning closer...

He leaned in to meet her so that their foreheads were touching, sliding his fingers down to interlace with her bare hand.

“Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong, Ladybug?”

He didn’t mean to ask the question, but she didn’t withdraw.

“You don’t understand, Chat.”

“But if I did something wrong-“

“You haven’t don’t anything wrong,” she cut over him, squeezing her eyes even more tightly shut and letting out a breathless laugh that washed over Adrien’s mouth. “In fact... I think you’ve done something very right.”

Well, if _that_ didn’t leave him even more baffled than before.

Her good hand reached up blindly for a moment, searching for his bell but ghosting out a laugh when she realized it was gone. She leaned impossibly closer, smiling _so near_ his mouth that he _shook_ with it, and she tickled him under the chin-

_Marinette._

He jumped back, aching as his jello-like muscles twitched violently. _Marinette was still waiting._

“I have to go,” he managed, voice absolutely rent. “Ladybug I-“

“Me too,” she said suddenly. “I have to go too.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, squeezing her hand.

“Me too,” she repeated. She sounded as if she were in shock.

Acting on impulse, he tugged on her hand and brought her into a hug.

“We’re a team,” he reminded her. “Let’s act like it from now on.”

“Okay,” she agreed, leaning further into him.

He took a deep breath to steady himself and caught a whiff of sweat, oil, girl, and flowers and-

_Marinette!_

“Bye Ladybug,” he whispered, easing out of her grasp. On his way out the trapdoor, he chanced one last glance at her, taking in the way she held her arm gingerly, eyes squeezed tight, then scanned the length of the room one last time-

And saw his own face staring back at him.

A scattered pile of pages from his magazine shoots had spilled onto the floor by the sink, undoubtedly unearthed when he’d hastily pulled the first aid kit from the cabinet.

“Chat?”

Ladybug’s whisper jolted him into action.

“Right,” he gulped. “Leaving.”

He pulled himself out of her room and into the night, letting the trapdoor fall shut. He slumped against the railing, looking up at the sky. Thunderclouds were roiling overhead, the storm above much like the one that was threatening to break in his head.

He ran his hands through his hair and took a deep breath. All of that could wait. He had a friend to apologize to.

“Plagg, transform me.”

“Camembert,” was the faint response he got.

“It’s just to get down from the balcony,” Adrien pleaded. “I’ll walk the rest of the way.”

Wordlessly, Plagg drifted out of his shirt and into his ring.

The transformation was tremulous, threatening to break with every breath he took, but it did the trick. He extended his staff to the ground and rode it all the way down while it descended. Twenty seconds later, Plagg was back in his pocket and Adrien was sprinting in the direction of the Eiffel Tower as raindrops began to splash on his face.

* * *

 

By the time he got to Les Cocottes he was drenched, and two hours late.

Marinette was indeed waiting for him, not looking much better than he did. She too was drenched, although she stood under the awning of the restaurant she’d had the sense to wear a coat.

“I’m so sorry I’m late Marinette I-“

“No it’s okay,” she smiled. He noticed that she was breathing heavily, and her cheeks were pink. “I’m late too.”

“You-“ Adrien suppressed a shiver, stepping under the awning with her. “Wait. What?”

“I was doing some shopping at got caught in the area of the supervillain attack,” she said, avoiding his gaze

“Me too,” he blurted, relief rushing warm through his chilled veins. “A-are you okay?”

“A little scratched up, but mostly, yeah.”

His eyes flicked to where she was holding her arm stiffly by her side. He frowned at how that tugged at something in his memory but he was too exhausted to wrap his mind around it - to wrap his mind around anything at all. His gaze moved up to her face, the way the restaurant’s warm backlight glinted off the raindrops in her hair, on her face, and he felt a strong surge of _something_ fill his chest.

He didn’t know what made him say it, but before he knew it the words were tumbling out of his mouth.

“Marinette, I... Will you go to the ball with me next week?”

The surprise was evident on her face, and Adrien’s heart pounded through the silence. _What are you doing? What in God’s name are you doing-_

Finally, a small, shy smile appeared on her lips. She gave a little laugh, meeting his gaze. “Y-yeah, sure.”

“Okay,” he breathed, finding himself suddenly unable to breathe.

She turned from him, fighting a smile and gazing in at where the waiters were stacking chairs ontotables inside. “Looks like they’re closing.”

Adrien grimaced. “Yeah, it does.”

But Marinette turned back to him, no longer holding back the bright smile that lit up her tired features. “Let’s go back to my place. I can find us some leftovers in the bakery.”

He returned her smile gratefully. “That sounds great.”

To his surprise, she opened up one side of her coat invitingly. He only hesitated a moment beforedraping it around his shoulder, pressing in close to her under it. The snapshot memory of his face spilled all over her floor sprang into his mind and he blushed, keeping his eyes trained solidly on the ground as he fought the grin threatening to break his face in half.

_She likes me. All of me._

They stepped out into the rain and began to walk in tandem back the way he came, his side pressed ever closer to hers, and his stomach swooped in a way he’d never experienced before.

It wasn’t an entirely unwelcome feeling.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And because I couldn't write while I was at work and also because I'm a loser I illustrated the pseudo-Ladrien scene: 
> 
> http://ravenspencil.tumblr.com/post/140842976723/im-a-loser-and-i-draw-fanart-for-my-own-fic-so


	4. but not get caught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien encounters a stroke of good luck for once. 
> 
> (But will it last?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For every action-packed chapter, there is a strong-but-silent filler chapter. Hopefully these blushing idiots will tide you over until The Much Anticipated Ball Scene, which I assure you is written but it's a monster. A monster that needs to be tamed. 
> 
> Also, thank you for all of the awesome reviews! If I had time to respond to each one individually I would but alas, I barely even have time to write the damn story for all the adulting I do.

“Wish me luck, Plagg.”

“I’m literally an ancient spirit comprising a densely packed culmination of misfortune and decay. I couldn’t wish you luck even if I tried.”

“Downer. How about a pep talk?”

“Not in the job description.”

“Moral support?”

“Camembert?”

“Screw you Plagg, I can do this.”

“Hip hip hooray.”

Adrien puffed up his chest in the mirror, bolstering his confidence and attempting (in vain) to quell his nerves.

“You’ve done backflips off of buildings to defeat actual supervillains in order to save the entire city of Paris,” he told his reflection. “You can have a five minute conversation with your father.”

“I’d like to have a five hour conversation with a wedge of cheese,” Plagg muttered darkly.

“Right,” Adrien told himself bracingly. “You can do this.”

“Bring me some food on the way back!” Plagg wailed as Adrien strode out the door.

What little confidence he’d mustered slowly deflated as he walked down the stairs and across the entrance hall to his father’s study. With matters of little importance, like photoshoot times or studying with friends, he could usually schedule with Nathalie without needing to face his father at all. But this... he knew this would take some convincing.

Putting it off would only make it worse, so he knocked on the door.

A beat.

And then-

“Come in.”

Swallowing against the knot of apprehension buried somewhere in his sternum, Adrien pushed open the door.

He knew that he should be used to seeing his face hung up all around the walls of his father’s study by now, but he’d been in this room so little that the sight still gave him a sense of unease. He allowed his gaze to sweep over the newest additions to the walls before steeling himself to turn toward his father.

“Adrien,” he said coldly, without looking up from his elevated tablet. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

The way he said it made Adrien think that his son’s presence was anything but pleasurable, but he soldiered on.

“Good evening, Père. I’ve come to ask you something.”

“Come, then. I don’t have much time, I have a video conference with Milan in ten minutes.”

Adrien took a deep breath and walked over to where his father was seated in his tall chair, deftly tapping at the screen in front of him. Adrien looked up behind him, at the golden portrait of his mother, for support.

“I’d like to go to Mayor Bourgeois’ Ladybug and Chat Noir charity ball this Saturday.” He’d decided, practicing the words in his mirror earlier, that it would be best to be direct.

For the first time since he walked into the room, his father met his gaze.

“Why?”

Adrien tried not to look as surprised as he felt; he’d been expecting to be turned down outright.

“I think it would be a good opportunity to showcase your Summer collection,” Adrien lied. “I’m sure many of Paris’ elite designers will be there, and since I’m sure you’re too busy to attend, I could network for you?”

He hated the way his words tilted up towards the end like a question. His father held his gaze for a long, tense moment.

Finally, he looked away. “I’m not sure that would be such a good idea.”

Adrien tried not to let the petulance seep into his voice. “Why not?”

“Because it might be dangero-“

He stopped abruptly.

“It might be what?” Adrien blurted.

There was a brief period of silence before his father responded slowly, “It might be dangerous for you to go alone.”

“I could take Nathalie and the Goril- I mean. My bodyguard,” Adrien suggested quickly.

His father looked at him once more and Adrien was surprised to see a hint of some kind emotion behind the calculated gaze. Before he could figure out what it was, his father turned his attention back to his tablet, sliding his fingers over it once more.

“That will be acceptable. I’ll select a few pieces from my collection for you to wear and will have them sewn for you by Saturday morning. I’m assuming you’ll be needing a date for the function?”

He threw an unreadable glance at Adrien, who blushed.

“To model the women’s collection,” he clarified.

Adrien’s stomach dropped. Of course.

“I’ll start going through my list of eligible models we’ve used in the past for the Agreste line-“

“Oh! N-no, no!” Adrien protested before he could stop himself.

“Excuse me?” his father said cooly.

“I mean,” Adrien cleared his throat. He hadn’t rehearsed this particular turn of conversation. “What I mean is, I’ve already thought about that, and I have a suggestion.”

“Oh?” his father looked extremely skeptical.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

His father frowned. “I know that name.”

“She won your hat contest a few months ago,” Adrien reminded him. “She’s an excellent designer even though she’s only my age. I bet she’s designing her own dress for the ball as we speak.” He fought to keep a smile from spreading onto his cheeks.

“I’m not sure-“

“I know she would be honored to be my escort,” Adrien pushed, “And to have the opportunity to meet so many influential people. You agree that she has potential, right?”

His father tapped his fingers on the tablet, considering.

“Fine.”

Adrien just barely contained a whoop of joy.

“Really?”

“You will be escorted by both Nathalie _and_ your bodyguard, and you will be home before eleven. Is that understood?”

“Yes,” Adrien breathed, grinning. “Yes, of course Père. I - thank you.”

The emotion was back in his father’s eyes.

“Be careful,” he murmured.

Adrien frowned at the tone in his voice. Be careful of _what?_

But at that moment the tablet began to ring, and his father’s steely exterior was back in place.

“If that’s all?”

“Yes, Père. Goodnight.”

He made to leave, but his father interrupted his exit.

“Oh, and Adrien?”

He turned around.

“Have Marinette give you a sample of the fabric from her dress,” he said quietly, “So I can design a pocket square.”

Adrien nodded numbly before practically skipping out of the office and pumped his fist in victory once he was back in the hall. Unable to contain his joy he skipped across the marble halls and into the kitchen.

When he returned to his room a few minutes later with a platter full of assorted cheeses, Plagg joined in on the celebration, both of them whooping and cheering and dancing in circles.

“Good job,” his kwami chuckled indulgently as he bit into a large, smelly piece of Camembert. Adrien smiled, knowing he wasn’t talking about stealing the cheese.

* * *

Later that night Chat Noir leapt up to his usual meeting place for patrol with an extra pounce in his step. Delighted to find Ladybug already waiting for him, he tackled her, and they spun around and around in a tight embrace.

“Chat!” she exclaimed, extracting herself from his grip once the momentum of the spin had worn off. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Oh nothing,” he grinned, hopping up to the edge of the roof and strolling along it. “But it just so happens that luck be _my_ lady tonight.”

“Last time I checked you were the _bad_ luck in this relationship,” she laughed.

“Not today,” he jumped back onto the roof to poke her nose with a clawed finger.

“Pray tell, what has you in such an irritatingly good mood?” she crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow.

“The ball on Saturday,” he replied simply, twirling his baton.

“The ball?” she said skeptically. “I can’t imagine an alleycat like you being excited for a _ball.”_

“Au contraire, Bugaboo. You’re forgetting that underneath the roguish mask, I could be anybody. Even a well-mannered, sophisticated young man.”

She scoffed, pushing him lightly in the arm. “Only in my wildest dreams, Chat Noir.”

“So you do dream of me then?” he teased, moving closer and picking up her hand to kiss it. For the first time, she didn’t pull away.

“Maybe. Nightmares, mostly.” She smirked, intertwining their gloved fingers.

His already soaring heart gained altitudes he didn’t think possible, and he pulled her abruptly close to lean her down into a dip. She gasped in surprise, reaching her other arm up to grasp at his shoulder.

“Does that mean you’ll save a dance for me?” he murmured, leaning down ever closer to her face.

This was the part where she laughed merrily and pushed him away, rejecting him with a playful jab, dancing around yet another one of his extravagant advances.

But she never did.

“Sure,” she whispered, bright blue eyes wide.

Maybe it was shock from the lack of her rejection, or the completely unguarded expression on her face, or the way her blue eyes reflected in the moonlight- but in that moment, Adrien was reminded inexorably of Marinette.

He leaned her back up to her feet slowly, but she didn’t pull away.

“Really?” he asked.

“I mean,” Ladybug swallowed, looking flustered - _I did that!_ Chat thought with delight - “It’ll probably be expected of us anyway.”

A catlike grin made its way onto Chat’s face. “Maybe we should practice.”

“What?” she yelped, looking quite panicked. “Oh, no no no. I- I don’t dance. Usually. When I can help it. The ball will probably be an exception.”

Chat’s eyebrows flew up to his hairline. “ _What?_ The Miraculous Ladybug, who zips across entire city blocks with a magic yoyo, doesn’t _dance?”_

“You’re not the only one who’s different behind the mask!” she exclaimed, finally pulling away and looking about as red as her suit.

“Well it’s settled then,” Chat said seriously.

“What’s settled?” she narrowed her eyes.

“I’ll teach you!” he said brightly, and moved to scoop her up.

“No!” She skittered away, and they began a wild goose chase across the rooftop. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into!”

He made a grab for her, but she leaped onto the next building, laughing, and he followed, hot on her trail.

They flew, laughing and teasing, all the way to the Eiffel Tower where Chat finally managed to grab a hold of her yoyo mid-swing, using it to reel her in slowly.

“Well well well,” he drawled. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

She pouted, crossing her arms.

“Now what’s this about a certain Ladybug not being able to dance?”

She sighed, avoiding his gaze. “I know _Ladybug_ may be quick on her feet, but M-“

She coughed.

“ _M-Myself,”_ she stuttered, and since when did Ladybug stutter? “Me, myself, and I, behind the mask, we’re pretty clumsy, actually.”

Chat beamed. “Not to worry, my Lady. Like I said, I was brought up to be a well-mannered young boy- an upbringing, which, I assure you, included rigorous training in all forms of dance.”

“Chat, I _really_ don’t know if-“

“We’ll start with my favorite,” he said, grabbing her hand and her waist and twirling her into proper form, “The tango.”

Ladybug shrieked as he whirled her away, but soon they were laughing and tripping over each other’s feet as Chat led her in dance after dance around and around the top platform of the shining Eiffel Tower, their patrol all but forgotten.

* * *

Saturday evening found Adrien staring into his mirror once more for moral support far sooner than he would have liked.

Physically, he didn’t appear to be a boy who needed moral support. In the slim light grey tuxedo his father had selected for him, along with the combed back hair, pressed white shirt, silvery striped tie, and black oxfords, he had to admit he was looking pretty decent. Fashion may have kept his father away most of the time, but Adrien couldn’t deny that the work he put in was worth it. The suit was impeccable.

And the downright _baffling_ pocket square of delicate baby-pink lace only served to enhance the already flawless tux. He had no idea what had driven his father to include the design of a fourteen year old in the ensemble, but Adrien wasn’t about to issue any complaints.

Besides, despite his physical appearance, Adrien was a nervous wreck.

“Plagg, I don’t know how I’m going to do this.”

Plagg, who was still reveling in the last vestiges of the cheese platter, gave a happy hum.

“Anything is possible with enough cheese.”

“It’s going to be a lot of work tonight, being both Adrien and Chat,” he reminded his kwami. “Are you sure you’re up for it?”

Plagg chomped into another wedge of Camembert in lieu of answering.

“And what about Chat’s tux?”

Plagg choked.

“Who said anything about a _tuxedo?”_

“I did,” Adrien reminded him dryly. “Three times.”

“I must not have heard you correctly,” Plagg said hastily, gazing shiftily around. “I’ve been chewing nonstop for days.”

“I can’t show up to the ball dressed in all leather,” Adrien insisted.

“Says who?” Plagg sulked. “Black is a formal color.”

Adrien swooped down and grabbed the tray of cheese, holding it out of Plagg’s reach and twirling to dodge his kwami as he flew up to retrieve it.

“You promised!” Adrien whined.

“Fine, _fine,_ ” Plagg relented, crossing his arms. “But _only_ because the cheese is getting to my head and actually putting me in a good mood.”

Adrien beamed and placed the tray back in front of Plagg, who began chewing morosely.

There was a knock at the door, and Nathalie’s voice echoed from behind it.

“The car is ready, Adrien. Time to go.”

Adrien gulped, took a deep breath, choked, gulped again. then ushered Plagg into his jacket and rushed out the door.

Fifteen minutes later they had pulled up to the Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie. Nathalie moved to get out of the car with him, but he gave her a pleading look, and she sat back down, nodding curtly.

As soon as he stepped into the bakery, he was met with a flurry of activity.

“You must be Adrien!” a woman who was clearly Marinette’s mother _(Sabine?)_ descended upon him with a warm smile, ushering him inside. “Marinette has told us _so_ much about you-“

“Have a cookie!” Marinette’s enormous father offered _(Tom, then)_ , pushing a chocolate-raspberry macaron into his hands.

“Thank you so much, Monsieur Dupain-Cheng. These are my favorite.” Adrien said gratefully, taking a bite of the macaron.

Tom’s eyes sparkled with emotion. “Have another,” he whispered, handing him three more.

Adrien took them all graciously and allowed himself to be swept out of the bakery, up the stairs, and into the living room.

“Marinette will be down in a second,” Sabine reassured him, then called up the stairs. “ _Marinette!”_ I swear that girl is late for everything,” she finished in an undertone.

“So how long have you been dating Marinette?” Tom implored, towering over Adrien.

“What? Oh no, we’re not, I mean-“

_“We’re not dating!”_

Marinette, still upstairs, was evidently listening in on the conversation. Adrien found his heart sinking a little at hearing her say aloud the words he’d been reassuring himself with for weeks now.

“So you’re going to the ball as friends, then?” Tom amended.

“Yes,” Adrien said, with only a hint of resignation. He bit into another macaron.

“And you’ll be dancing at the ball as friends?” Sabine joined in.

“Yes.”

“And you’ll introduce her to all of your fancy fashion associates as your friend?” Tom grinned, eyeing Sabine lightheartedly.

“Er- yes.”

“And you’ve matched your suit to her dress because you’re friends?” Sabine chuckled.

Adrien blushed furiously. “I-“

“Maman!”

Marinette’s entrance was far from the magical, slow-motion staircase moments in movies of ages past. She rushed down the stairs, flustered and blushing, tripping on one of the last steps and nearly falling flat on her face. Luckily, she grabbed the railing just in time and straightened, smiling sheepishly at the three of them.

Adrien was struck speechless.

She was a vision in pale pink. A swath of transluscent, pearl-studded lace from shoulder to chest to shoulder, dipping down into a ruched satin bodice with more lace creeping up the waist and soft pink tulle flaring out from under it, lettuce-hemmed by her knees. She’d abandoned her signature pigtails for an elegant french twist held tight with a diamond white butterfly pin, loose strands of hair curling around her ears. Somehow she’d managed to trip even in her cream-colored kitten heels, ankle-strap and half-inch heel and all.

Adrien fought to catch his breath as she rushed over to them.

“Have they been bothering you?” she teased

Adrien floundered, temporarily forgetting the mechanics required for speaking.

“What did you tell him?” she turned on her parents. “He’s horrified!”

“You look so pretty,” he blurted, his brain and mouth finally establishing a connection.

Marinette blushed furiously as her parents smiled and exchanged a meaningful glance.

“Have a good time, mon chou,” Tom said loudly.

“Be back before eleven,” Sabine added.

And suddenly, Adrien and Marinette were alone.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” Marinette finally replied, peeking up at him from under her eyelashes.

Adrien cleared his throat, looking down in hopes of hiding his blush. “Um, the car’s waiting outside, so do you want to...?”

“Sure.”

Instinctively, he held out his hand.

She took it, and his heart leapt at the feeling. Her fingers were cold but soft, and familiar in a way that he couldn’t explain.

“So,” Marinette said in an undertone as they exited the bakery and walked toward where Nathalie was waiting beside the car, “How are we going to get rid of Monsieur Gorilla and and Madame Medusa?

Adrien smirked and leaned in to reply:

“Just follow my lead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For people like me who are nerds about dressing up characters:
> 
> Marinette's dress: This style ( http://www.amazon.com/Sarahbridal-Womens-Beading-Homecoming-AJ032/dp/B00NZS5O5K ) but with lace and pearls instead of mesh and rhinestones, like this ( https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/03/96/fd/0396fdca07414176f3096d9c2d7714e6.jpg )
> 
> Adrien's tux: http://media.trusper.net/u/71bf4641-423b-4ed7-a89b-07fdd44542be.jpg


	5. to see her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien fucks up. 
> 
> (Shit gets real.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, my fickle friend: Plot. 
> 
> I know it's all been sunshine and rainbows up until this point, and I would write fluff forever if I could, but my desire for a fulfilling storyline refuses to be silenced. And so a better title for this chapter should be "In Which Birdfriend Gets Tired Of Pussyfooting Around And Literally All The Shit Goes Down."
> 
> Anyway, in case you haven't noticed, this whole fic is basically me stuffing in as many classic fic/cartoon tropes as I can. I'm honestly surprised that I haven't read about an identity switcheroo fiasco in a ML fic yet. Also can you tell that I would rather just ignore Chloé as a character altogether? Because I'd almost managed to cut her out of the story altogether until I needed her in this chapter.

Walking into Le Grand Paris was like putting on a pair of red-tinted glasses.

The lobby was decked out in red and black silk drapes, brilliant red roses and their thorny green leaves gracing the centerpieces of the round tables surrounding the grandiose dance floor in the middle of the room. A long table was set against the far wall, covered in delectable-looking confections, finger foods, and beverages attended by a bartender. The entire room was full to the brim with party-goers dressed to the nines, chatting and drinking and dancing to the music provided by the live jazz band playing on a raised platform at the head of the dance floor.

Unfortunately, the beautiful sight was ruined by a mobile, garish hodge-podge of bright yellow and glitter.

“ _What_ exactly is going on here?”

“Oh,” said Adrien, realizing that Chloé was buried underneath that unfortunate eyesore of a dress.“Hey Chloé.” He grimaced rather than smiled at her, suddenly remembering the fifteen or so times he’d dodged her invitations to be her date to the ball.

Funny. He’d somehow managed to block all of that out until now.

Marinette remained silent. Adrien flicked his eyes over to her briefly. There was a poorly-disguised look of disgust on her face.

“Adrikins,” Chloé simpered, placing an iron-clad grip on his arm and fluttering heavily-mascaraed eyelashes. The Gorilla grunted, but did nothing. “ _Please_ tell me you were just showing this pitiful _simpleton_ to the door.”

“No actually,” Marinette spoke up. Her arms were crossed, and she was staring Chloé down. “I came with him.”

“As his pet _poodle?”_ Chloé drawled, looking her frothy pink dress up and down.

“As my date,” Adrien blurted.

He didn’t know what made him say it, especially considering how many times he’d pushed the word out of his mind over the past couple of weeks, but he knew immediately that he shouldn’t have. Chloé’s face twisted into a grimace that, Adrien was sad to note, was quite ugly on her features.

“Impossible,” she spat. “The ball is invitation only, and never in my right mind would I invite _her.”_

“Then you must _not_ be in your right mind, because you’re forgetting that you extended an invitation to everyone in your class,” Marinette shot back.

Adrien’s heart gave a start. _This_ was the real Marinette.

Chloé uttered a cry of frustration, pulling Adrien’s arm so violently that he was jostled back and forth.

“No! Adrien was mine _first!”_

“Chloé, be reasonable,” Adrien replied, frowning slightly.

She didn’t seem to hear him, because she pulled his arm harshly, tugging him unwillingly toward the dance floor. He wondered when his arm would eventually dislocate due to her constant, violent advances.

“Oh, don’t be silly Adrien. Let’s dance.”

Adrien looked over his shoulder helplessly at Marinette, but she wasn’t looking back. She was speaking to Nathalie and The Gorilla.

Not five seconds later, the painful grip on Adrien’s arm had disappeared.

He whipped his head around to the left to see the Gorilla towing Chloé away into the crowd, Nathalie following close behind.

“Stay here,” she said firmly, before whipping out her phone and pressing a few buttons, holding it up to her ear as she stalked after the Gorilla and his quarry.

Turning to the right, he found Marinette back at his side, grinning smugly.

“What did you tell them?” Adrien asked, in awe.

“Oh you know,” she sing-songed, “Just that Chloé had recently started to show signs of threat toward you, like possessiveness, stalking, delusions of grandeur, etcetera and that you would probably be safer if she were removed from your immediate vicinity.”

Adrien smiled sheepishly. He felt bad for Chloé, but he couldn’t help but feel relieved now that she _and_ his entourage were gone, and elated that he had Marinette to himself.

“Three birds, one stone,” she finished simply.

“You’re amazing,” Adrien beamed.

She blushed, but tentatively took his arm.

“Let’s move, before your bodyguards come back.”

“Agreed.” He pulled her a little closer and they began to walk.

True to his word, even if it had technically began as an excuse for his father’s benefit, Adrien introduced her to every connection to the fashion world that he could find. Marinette’s bashfulness seemed to disappear, a sunny, enthusiastic disposition taking its place. She actually made networking with fashion moguls enjoyable, a feat that Adrien never thought possible.

He was pleasantly surprised when Alya and Nino ran up to them, dressed in a long coral mermaid dress and black suit, respectively.

“Hey bro,” Nino punched him in the shoulder as the designers they’d been chatting with walked away. “Sweet party, huh? How’d you convince your dad to let you go?”

“Didn’t take much, just had to bargain away and arm and a leg and my first child.”

Nino raised his eyebrows. “He’d let you model with only one arm and leg each?”

As they chuckled, Adrien looked over at where Alya was whispering enthusiastically to Marinette, who was smiling widely in return and nodding.

“Bro,” Nino muttered, and Adrien snapped his head back toward him. Nino gave him a pointed look.

Adrien blushed. “Don’t ‘bro’ me.”

Nino raised his eyebrows. _“Bro.”_

“Shut up,” Adrien mumbled, but he couldn’t help a small smile from reaching his lips.

Nino smiled, apparently finding this an acceptable answer by the way he patted Adrien on the back proudly.

“So,” Alya cut in. “How about we hit the dance floor?”

Marinette gave a small gasp and glared at Alya, who merely patted her head and smiled wider.

“So down,” Nino agreed.

“Sure.” Adrien glanced at his phone; Ladybug and Chat Noir were scheduled to arrive at 8:00, and it was only 7:00. He had time to spare.

Marinette still looked like she wanted to murder Alya, for some reason unfathomable to Adrien, but she eventually sighed in defeat.

“Okay,” she conceded.

Nino gave out a loud whoop, and the four of them made their way over to the dance floor just as the band struck up a cover of The Beatles’ “I Saw Her Standing There.”

As soon as they touched down on the dance floor, Adrien found Marinette’s hand. She eyed him dubiously, but he smiled encouragingly. Keeping their hands twined, he brought his other arm up to loosely rest at her back and was surprised to find bare skin; her dress had a cutout and was backless from shoulder to waist. Face feeling suddenly warm, he lowered his hand to the lace at the small of her back, jiving her to and fro and in a circle as she giggled, finally warming up and bringing her hand up to his shoulder.

“I’m not so great at dancing,” she chuckled, accentuating her point by accidentally trodding on his toe.

“It’s okay,” he teased, “I’ve got enough talent for the both of us.” He spun her out and back in so that her back was to his front, their arms crossed in front of her, swaying back and forth.

She was close, and warm, and if he wasn’t mistaken, her face was lit up red from the proximity. Beaming, he spun her back out and back in, so that they were facing each other again.

The song melted into another, and another, but Adrien was far from tired. Marinette couldn’t stop smiling, and neither could he. It was intoxicating, her smell, her dress, the way she followed his lead effortlessly despite her alleged lack of coordination. He was positive that given the chance, he could dance with her for hours.

The band slowed the pace significantly, easing into a bluesy ballad of Elvis Presley’s “Can’t Help Falling In Love With You.”

Adrien, coming down a little from the high of dancing, was struck by just how close they were. Marinette, seeming to arrive at the same realization, took a small step back, smiling sheepishly.

“Um, I’m really thirsty. Maybe I should go grab us some-“

“I’ll get it for you,” Alya interjected out of nowhere, pushing Marinette back into Adrien’s arms. “You two keep having fun.”

She turned on her heel, dragging Nino off the dance floor.

Adrien caught her eye, and they both laughed nervously, looking away.

Determined not to let the moment go, he picked up her wrists gently, looping them around his neck. She gazed up at him, starstruck, as he wrapped his own arms around her waist. They began to revolve in slow circles.

Somehow, even though he’d spent the better part of the last half-hour dancing exuberantly with Marinette in his arms, his heart was pounding harder than had been before. He kept feeling her eyes on him, but when he would turn to catch her gaze, she’d be staring elsewhere.

He found that he didn’t like the awkward pocket of space in between them. Hesitantly, he drew her in closer.

Marinette squeaked, tripping over his feet a bit, before finding the rhythm again and hovering her cheek near his. Her breath quivered on his neck and he closed his eyes, basking in her warmth.

The last chorus of the song swelled. He felt more than saw her face move infinitesimally toward his, and even though he didn’t think it was possible his heart began to pound even harder against his ribs. His nose brushed hers as he turned, and he couldn’t help but smile at the freckles he saw there.

All of a sudden, he felt as if he had been holding back the tide from its inevitable destination of the shore. And in that moment, he wondered why he didn’t just let the tide rush in.

Pulling her just _that_ much closer, hands brushing up the bare skin of her shoulderblades, he drew in a breath, thrilling at the way her breath hitched, and began to lean in.

“Ladies and gentlemen!”

They jumped apart, startled out of the spell. Adrien found himself aching without the intimacy as they turned their attention to where Mayor Bourgeois was standing at the top of the staircase with a microphone.

“Ladybug and Chat Noir will be here in five minutes, everyone! Let’s all give them a warm welcome when they arrive, shall we?”

The crowd burst into applause and cheers, but Adrien’s stomach did a summersault.

“I have to go!” he said abruptly.

He looked at Marinette in surprise. They had said the exact same thing in tandem.

“I mean, I’m s-sorry,” Marinette stammered. “I just realized I promised I’d check in with my parents once I got here, and it’s almost been an hour.”

“I have to go to the bathroom?” Adrien followed up lamely.

Marinette headed in the direction of the front desk. “I’ll meet you at the refreshment table afterwards?”

“Sure, no problem,” he beamed, clasping her shoulder before jogging towards the restrooms.

Panting, he opened his jacket in the empty men’s restroom and allowed Plagg to fly out.

“Cutting it kind of close, no?” Plagg needled.

“I have a feeling this is only the beginning,” Adrien groaned. “Plagg, transform me!”

Electric green sparked his body, and he was about to zip out of the bathroom when he caught his reflection in the mirror.

Apparently, a week’s worth of cheese was enough to butter up his kwami significantly. Plagg had ditched the leather and dressed him in a slim, modern black coat and tails, accented with a crisp white shirt and a lime green bowtie to match his eyes. His ears and tail were a soft velvet, and his lapel was adorned with a catnip blossom boutonniere.

“Wow,” Chat grinned. “You clean up real nice, Plagg.”

_“7:58,”_ Plagg drawled in his head.

Chat cursed and vaulted himself out of the bathroom window.

He touched down at the entrance to the hotel at just the same time as Ladybug, and couldn’t help but think that he wasn’t the only one that cleaned up well.

She wore a red satin dress, the fabric of the bodice wrapping around and arching in a sweetheart neckline, scalloped layers of black-hemmed fabric cascading down to her knees, where the tulle of her black petticoat could just barely be seen. A thick black ribbon was tied at the front-left of her waist, the ends draping down to the hem of her skirt. She’d upgraded her pigtails to buns, an ornate jeweled brooch depicting a ladybug and a flower pinned into the right knot, crystal beads dangling down from it.

He reached for her hand, covered by a short, black glove, pressing his lips to it and trying not to think about how he’d never seen so much of her _skin_ before.

“You look purr-fectly charming tonight, as always, my Lady,” he bowed, catching a glimpse of her shoes. “And are those... Louboutins?”

“Well versed in fashion as well as cat puns, are you?” she quipped, raising an eyebrow.

“Er,” Chat answered, eyes flitting over Ladybug’s shoulders ( _Who knew shoulders could be so alluring?)_ and finding that speech was rather difficult at the moment.

She rolled her eyes. “Let’s go.”

Ladybug pulled the hand he was still holding towards her, effectively pulling him close so that she could link her arm with his.

Chat gulped.

This was going to be a _very_ long night.

The room burst into raucous applause at their entrance, and they were whisked away into the crowd so entirely that Chat barely had time to mentally adorn The Mask of Public Socialization, a skill that he’d perfected so well as Adrien and proved to be very useful to Chat.

They circled the room together, signing autographs, making conversation, and posing for pictures. He felt like a shadow beside the brilliantly shining Ladybug; it seemed to Chat that people simply gravitated toward her, and not just because of her party attire. There was something in her smile, in the way she seemed to genuinely care about each and every person that came up to her, that radiated light. Chat found himself almost blinded in her presence, having to look away.

His gaze lighted upon Nathalie, who was rushing through the crowd looking harried. He was hit with a pang of guilt as she rushed by him; he knew that keeping an eye on him was only her job, and ditching her just to hang out with a girl wasn’t the nicest thing he’d ever done.

He looked away, trying to focus his attention back on the civilian Ladybug was conversing with, but his ears pricked up at Nathalie’s voice.

“Everything is under control, Msr. Agreste.”

He looked to where she was sitting at a table in the corner alone, speaking urgently into the phone.

“Well, no I haven’t yet, but-“

Suddenly, Chat saw something he’d never seen Nathalie do in his whole life.

Her ramrod-straight posture gave out, and she slumped in her chair.

“No, _please,_ Msr. Agreste, I didn’t-“

Chat’s heart gave a lurch. Was he scolding her for losing him?

“I... I understand. I will handle the situation immediately.”

She hung up the phone, but didn’t move from her slouched position, staring off into space. After a long moment, she leaned forward on the table, face covered in her hands.

“I’ll be right back,” he murmured to Ladybug. She glanced at him, nodded, then returned to her conversation.

A few minutes later, he was detransformed, and Adrien was hurrying through the crowd, searching for Nathalie. He never would have thought she’d get in _that_ much trouble for losing him, or that his father would even find out at all.

As strict as she was, she didn’t deserve to be punished for something that wasn’t her fault.

He circled the room twice, but she had vacated the table in the corner, and was nowhere to be seen. He glimpsed the Gorilla, still trailing Chloé suspiciously around the dance floor.

In Adrien’s haste to retrace his steps and check outside, he nearly ran someone over.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry-“

His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

Ladybug was staring at him with wide eyes.

“I. I. Hi,” Adrien stuttered, suddenly panicking. His hand flew up to his head to check whether or not his cat ears were still there, stiffly attempting to mask the movement by smoothing his fingers through his hair when he confirmed he was indeed his civilian self.

Ladybug’s mouth, lined in red lipstick, opened in a little ‘o’ of shock.

“Bye!” she shouted, before turning on the spot and sprinting off in the opposite direction, faster than he thought heels could possibly allow.

Well that was strange.

Pushing the bizarre encounter from his mind, he made his way over to the refreshment table, hoping to at least find Marinette, but it was useless. She had disappeared as well.

Resolving to keep an eye and an ear out for both her and Nathalie with his heightened Chat senses, he retreated to the bathroom once more.

He was spared one mission; on his way out of the bathroom he quite literally ran into Marinette.

“Ah, so good to see you, my Princess!” he grinned, ducking down into an elaborate bow.

She scoffed and forcefully lifted him back up by the chin. “Now now, Chaton,” she chided. “Don’t go around pretending to be anything other than the alleycat you are just because you’re wearing some fancy new clothes.”

“Aw, you don’t like them?” he whined, throwing an arm around her shoulder. “Last time we spoke I’m pretty sure you thought I was devilishly handsome, well-mannered, charming, and _incredibly_ witty.”

“Really? I was so sure that I actually said something along the lines of annoying, full of yourself, invasive, and full of useless puns,” she corrected, ducking out from under his arm. Electricity shot down his spine when she tickled at his cat ear. “You need to get your ears checked, Chaton.”

“Maybe so,” he grinned, cat-like. “But I don’t need ears to remember what happened _after_ you said all of those blatant lies about me.”

He leaned in close, _too_ close he knew, craving the intimacy he’d earned as Adrien earlier that night.

Chat didn’t miss the hitch in her breath, perfectly mirroring the one from before, but she recovered quickly, pushing him away.

“Or _didn’t_ happen,” she amended, and looked around shiftily. “I-I’m here with someone, Chat.”

And it wasn’t until just then that Chat truly realized he’d gotten himself into a _very_ complicated situation.

“Ah,” he exclaimed, shoving that notion away forcefully, “Finally got your loverboy to notice you then?”

She blushed prettily and folded her arms. “It’s none of your business.”

“Oh,” he purred, unable to help himself,leaning forward and tilting her head up with a white, clawed glove. “But it _definitely_ is.”

“Ladies and Gentlemen!”

Chat was getting rather annoyed at the Mayor, having been interrupted rudely twice in the same night now.

“I’d like to introduce the dynamic duo of the night, Ladybug and Chat Noir! Perhaps they will honor us with a dance?”

Chat started, immediately scanning the room for his Lady in red. He almost didn’t hear what Marinette said from beside him.

“Looks like you have your own business to attend to, Chaton.”

But when he whipped his head around to look at her, she was already gone.

Shaking his head, he strode confidently toward the dance floor, hoping that Ladybug had heard the Mayor’s announcement and would meet him there.

Sure enough, as soon as he stepped onto the floor, he felt an arm slip through his own.

Ladybug looked flushed and out of breath, but was smiling brightly. He supposed mingling with a crowd of adoring fans would do that to a superhero.

“Sorry I’m late,” she breathed as they made their way to the center of the dance floor.

“You’re right on time,” he assured her, leaning close to her ear to speak over the applause of the surrounding audience.

They reached the center of the floor, and the band called out to them. “Any preference?”

Chat was about to suggest a slow waltz, remembering Ladybug’s prior aversion to dancing, but before he could speak, Ladybug hurried over to whisper something into the main trumpet player’s ear.

Chat quirked an eyebrow as she made her way back to him in the center of the floor, but said nothing. He didn’t say anything at all until he made to place his hands in the position of lead, but Ladybug insisted he take the follow position.

“My Lady?” he chuckled, thoroughly confused.

“I’ve been practicing,” she offered in explanation, her smile erring on the side of devious.

Chat only had a moment to take this in before the band burst into a saucy, dramatic tango rendition of “Luck Be A Lady Tonight”.

He immediately shot her a deadpan look that read: _“Really?”_ But it was wiped clean off his face once she tugged him close to begin their dance.

Although she was at least a head shorter, she was a damn good lead. He was so shocked at her sudden turnaround that it took him a moment to catch up with her, forgetting that _he_ was supposed to be the one kicking and swiveling and - _oh that was painful -_ lowering into the splits.

He wondered if she didn’t have a little kwami magic on her side.

But he soon realized that this was no different than what they did on a near-daily basis- Ladybug leading them fearlessly into battle, and Chat Noir following in perfect synchronization. She wrangled a dragon and he jumped onto it from a twenty-foot drop; she lowered him and he went down with her on one leg, stretching the other out behind him. She directed the lasers in the giant robot and he shot them; she spun him out with the music and he spun back in to hitch a leg over her hip.

She used an opportune crescendo in the music to dip him down and around, snapping him back up so that their faces were dangerously close.

Once he started seeing the dance as something akin to an akuma battle (albeit a very _sexy_ akuma battle) things started going a lot smoother. He even started to ham it up, much to the audience’s already piqued delight. He stroked a wide hand down the side of her face when she pulled him close; flung an arm straight out, fingers splayed, when she turned him in and out and in again. His heart was racing in a way that had less to do with the unforgiving pace at which she was leading, and more to do with the way she shamelessly brought him in close before snapping him back out with astounding strength, again and again, an addicting whiplash that left Chat shaky in the knees.

At long long last, the song drew to an abrupt, ringing close, and Ladybug dropped him into a shockingly low dip, her red lips millimeters from his own.

And for the third time that night, he found himself deprived of a kiss due to an interruption.

For a split second, Chat thought the raucous noise was the audience’s swell of applause. But Ladybug’s face vanished from his vision and he heard a bloodcurdling scream to his right rise above the din, and he realized that something very, _very_ bad was happening.

He found himself hauled to his feet, by Ladybug no doubt, and he looked around wildly in shock at the chaos erupting around him.

Guests were sprinting in different directions, most of them beginning to bottleneck at the exit of the building. The Mayor was desperately shouting evacuation instructions but no one seemed to be listening. Tables and chairs were knocked over in the partygoers’ desperation to escape, and band instruments were flying left and right-

Wait. The guests weren’t the ones throwing the instruments.

He slowly turned toward the band stand, where a dangerously tall woman was tormenting the band members.

A dangerously tall woman with sleek laser-vision glasses and writhing, red snakes for hair.

“I am Medusable and I _demand_ to know! _WHERE IS HE_?” she screeched, using a coiled red lock of snake-hair to throttle a saxophone player. “ _I need to find him!”_

Nathalie.

His heart plummeted into his stomach, blood draining from his face.

_This is my fault,_ he realized. _I did this._

_“Chat!”_ Ladybug yelled over the racket as she swooped down to rescue the saxophone player. He just barely registered that she was back in her usual costume.

He felt a familiar green static wash over him and he momentarily panicked, thinking he was detransforming, but looking down he found his leather suit back in place. Plagg’s wake up call, it would seem.

He steeled himself, crouching and willing himself into action.

Adrien had gotten him into this mess, and Chat would have to get him out of it.

Running forward he extended his baton, using it to launch himself up and over Nathalie’s head ( _Medusable’s_ head, he amended), her snakes snapping out at him. Their movement distracted her temporarily, and she moved to follow him away from the band stand.

He dodged her advances, watching out of the corner of his eye as Ladybug urged the band members away and toward the rapidly thinning crowd.

Eventually Nathalie - _Medusable -_ grew tired of chasing him around the lobby of the hotel, giving out a frustrated cry and leveling a blast of laser beams at him from her opaque, glinting glasses.

He hollered in surprise and rolled out of the way, looking behind him in terror.

The lasers meant for him had frozen the Mayor to the spot where he was still directing traffic up on the staircase, unseeing and unmoving.

Feeling a guilty rush of relief at an excuse not to fight what used to be his personal assistant, he called out to his partner.

“Ladybug!”

She swiveled from where she was aiding the drummer in supporting the injured saxophone player, and nodded in understanding.

He turned and ran for the Mayor, trusting Ladybug to distract Medusable before she had time to aim her lasers at him once more.

He hefted the Mayor over his shoulder (not an easy task, considering he was stiffly frozen in a standing position), and deposited him in a hotel room down the hall, out of harm’s way.

Entering the lobby once more, he found Ladybug swinging in circles around the eight-foot tall Medusable, attempting and failing to grab the glasses from her face without attracting the attention of the twenty-something red snakes lashing out from Medusable’s scalp. He immediately jumped into the fray, taking the defensive rather than the offensive to avoid harming Nathalie ( _Medusable!)_ at all costs.

After about thirty minutes of near misses from twenty pairs of individually-minded poisonous fangs, and just barely avoiding being turned to stone, Ladybug and Chat Noir were exhausted.

“This isn’t working,” she insisted, dodging an especially agile snake. “We need to find Adrien!”

“W-what?” he stammered, blinking and stumbling as he danced away from a stream of lasers.

“She’s looking for Adrien Agreste,” Ladybug called, swinging far out onto the dance floor and chancing a glance at him while Medusable turned to catch up to them. “She’s his personal assistant.”

“How do you know that?” he asked, joining her. His mind struggled to keep up but was drawing blanks.

Ladybug gave a huff of frustration. “Why does it _matter?_ Just go find him!”

He knew it was impossible to “find Adrien,” not with Medusable this fast and this big and this _dangerous._ He couldn’t leave Ladybug to fend for herself, nor could he justify abandoning her as Chat as soon as he returned as Adrien

But he couldn’t explain all of this and so his brain unhelpfully supplied him with:

“No.”

Ladybug whipped her head over to where he stood. “ _No?”_

Medusable was almost on them. They jumped up to the staircase.

“I... It won’t work. It never does. She’s too far gone. And I won’t leave you here alone.”

“I’ll be fine, Chat. And if there’s a chance to calm her without violence, we _have_ to take it. Adrien’s probably already evacuated but he won’t have left yet, not without - just go find him, okay?”

But her words weren’t registering with him. There was no way he was going to be able to perform the switcheroo act under these circumstances.

“I can’t leave you alone, she’s too powerful,” he insisted stubbornly.

“I’m _already_ practically fighting alone,” she yelled in frustration. “You refuse to land an attack! If you won’t go find Adrien, just _fight_ with me already, I don’t need defense right now!”

“I...” but Chat didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to explain that he _couldn’t_ fight her, because she was Nathalie, and it was his fault that she was Medusable, and he couldn’t bear to hurt her any more than he had already.

But he was spared answering to her demands, because a very many things happened almost all at once.

While they had been arguing, Medusable had snuck up on them. Ladybug tripped over a discarded saxophone, not quite falling but slowing down her attempt to escape the sudden gleam of Medusable’s laser vision. Chat registered the minuscule mistake in her step a millisecond too late - he ran towards her just as the jet green beams of light hit her square in the chest, freezing her mid-dodge.

Almost immediately, twin bloodred snakes lashed out from Medusable’s temples, snatching the stones from Ladybug’s ears.

Chat didn’t think. Didn’t yell, didn’t speak.

Acting on pure adrenaline and instinct he used the momentum of his run to jump in front of Ladybug even as pink light began to surge from her. Cataclysm seeped into his hand wordlessly as he darted it out, catching the snakes just as they snapped back to their places beside Medusable’s glasses, which fell prey to his grip all in one swipe.

Medusable’s eyes were wide in surprise - the exact same shade as Nathalie’s, and framed by the telltale outline of a neon purple butterfly.

He felt at least three of the snakes latch onto his arm before he dropped back down front of Ladybug, but he fought through the searing pain and clamped his hand down hard on the earrings and the glasses. Keeping his eyes firmly forward, he scooped up Ladybug from where she was stumbling, unfrozen and almost completely detransformed, and ran.

He ran even through the buttferfly-shaped blindspot where the poison-purple light had struck his vision, up the stairs and into the depths of the hotel, not stopping until he rammed through the dining room and onto the balcony beyond.

Sucking lungfulls of crisp air, Chat slammed his back into the darkest corner of the balcony and slid down the wall, clutching Ladybug in his arms and staring resolutely out at the barely-there light of the stars.

Once the blood pounding against his ears died away, he realized that she was hyperventilating.

“Where’s Tikki?” he deciphered through her hysterics. She was attempting to grab at her ears against Chat’s ironclad grip, sending shooting pain up his arm as he struggled to hold her. “Tikki?! Oh god, oh god, oh god-“

“I-I have them,” Chat finally found his voice. “I have them, Ladybug. Right here.”

He opened his palm shakily, revealing the earrings and the cracked glasses. The purple butterfly attempted an escape, but Chat grabbed it with his uninjured hand, holding it in as loose a fist as possible.

Ladybug’s gasps only seemed to intensify, and he shook all over.

“Shh,” he tried to console her, but she flinched back violently from his touch. It was dark; if he didn’t look directly at her the night vision in his mask wouldn’t allow him to see her or even what she was wearing, so he kept his eyes resolutely to the side, at the earrings in his bleeding hand. “I-I didn’t look. I swear. But you have to purify the akuma, just do that first, and y-you can cry later. You c-can sit here all night if you want, I’ll stay here with you. Or leave, whatever you need, just- please-“

He was rambling, and stuttering, but _a lot_ was happening right now, his arm was throbbing and he felt extremely dizzy and he was clinging to the solid facts, the frankness of the job at hand.

She gulped noisily and he could just barely make out her nodding in his peripheral vision as she hastily grabbed the earrings from his hand, putting them back on.

He registered a tiny, red, kwami-sized creature pop into existence in front of him before the blinding, pink light was back, obscuring his vision afterwards even despite his night vision. For the first time, Ladybug went through the routine wordlessly, capturing the akuma in her yo-yo as Chat released it from his grip, allowing it to fly away, pure-white and harmless.

“Lucky Charm,” she whispered. A flute, one usually used for snake charming, appeared in a burst of heart-shaped lights. Too little too late.

She stared at it for a moment, before tossing it up morosely. A blinding shower of sparkles ascended and spread, fixing the damage that had been done during battle.

As the spots in Chat’s night vision cleared, and the pain in his arm vanished, he fixed his gaze on Ladybug. Her head was down and she was still curled in on herself, as if still afraid her identity were about to be revealed.

Her breathing had calmed. Chat’s trembling subsided.

There were several beats of silence.

“He knows.”

Chat’s mind processed the words blankly, not grasping their meaning. His ring beeped, and he processed that blankly, too.

“He knows,” Ladybug repeated, finally meeting his gaze.

“I don’t understand,” Chat said slowly, testing the words on his tongue.

“He s-saw me, Chat.” There were tears in Ladybug’s eyes. He’d never seen her look like this before.

“Who saw you?” Chat’s voice was a mask of calm. His brain was putting the pieces together, but he wouldn’t accept it. He _couldn’t_ accept it.

She didn’t answer, only crumpled as a sob worked its way out of her throat. He pulled her close again, and his brain immediately made the switch from denial to _fix this._

Because it was his fault that Nathalie got akumatized.

It was his fault that Ladybug had been fighting with a crutch of a partner.

It was his fault that Hawkmoth saw her civilian self through the fading eyes of Medusable.

“I’ll protect you.” the words came automatically, and he didn’t attempt to stop them. “I don’t know how yet, but I’ll be there for you. I won’t let him get you. Or your family, or your friends. We’ll get through it together.”

She took a shuddering breath. “Chat...”

“I’ll figure it out. _We’ll_ figure it out.”

“Chat-“

“We’ll stop him. It’s what we were meant to do, together. I’ll never stop fighting for you - _with_ you.”

_“Chat-“_

“I promise.”

And then, her lips were on his.

Hard at first, uncoordinated and clumsy, in her desperation and his surprise. But he gasped his mouth open and she claimed it, sliding her lips into his. She was curled up in his lap, her fingers in his hair, scratching under his human ears and he released a little desperate sound he didn’t know he had in him as he drew her closer.

It was over before he could fully register the weight of what happened.

Her warmth was stolen from him as she fled, swinging immediately off the balcony and out of sight.

Chat sat.

He knew he had to find Nathalie. He knew he had to find Marinette. He knew that things were bad.

_Really_ bad.

But all he could do was sit.

He sat through the rest of his ring’s warnings. Sat through the detransformation.

Eventually, what felt like hours but was probably a few minutes later, his legs were tingling and his bottom was sore, so he stood and walked to the balcony, resting his hands on it.

He didn’t know exactly when Marinette joined him, but all of a sudden there was a petite hand on his, and a solid weight beside him.

Adrien looked at her, finding those bright blue eyes smiling kindly up at him. To his surprise he felt a surge of warmth rise up in him; he hadn’t realized that shock had turned his body numb.

And then he _really_ looked at her. The emotion behind the smile, the grace underneath the pink lace of her dress, the comfort in her hand. The understanding in her eyes.

They barely knew each other, but he couldn’t help feeling like she understood everything about him.

Adrien suddenly got the sense that he’d been missing something very important over the past few weeks.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, turning his hand over to clasp hers.

She looked out at the view from the balcony, something Adrien hadn’t registered even though he’d been staring at it for the past five minutes. “It’s not your fault,” she reassured him.

The words fissured him ever so slightly. Because it _was._

When he turned away and didn’t answer, she leaned in to rest her head on his shoulder.

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that. His sense of time had fled him since the start of the night. But much like how he’d felt with her on the dance floor, he was sure that he wouldn’t mind if Marinette stayed with him like this forever.

While Ladybug’s kiss had sent a flurry of frenzied butterflies through his stomach, Marinette had calmed them into something smaller, more fluttery and warm and barely-there. If Ladybug was the sun then Marinette was a candle, impossible to look away from, and warming him up from within to his very fingertips.

After an indeterminable amount of time, she pulled away.

“Come on,” she urged, tugging on his arm gently. “Let’s go find Nathalie before she gets akumatized all over again.”

He found it in him to let out a weak chuckle, and succumbed to her grip on his hand, trailing behind her back into the hotel.

Staring at the expanse of skin revealed by the cutout of lace in her dress, and the confident set of her shoulders as she led him, Adrien resolved that from now on, he would be completely honest with himself.

And complete honestly started with admitting that he did indeed have a crush on Marinette.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry fashion nerds, I didn't forget you. 
> 
> Ladybug's dress: Bodice: https://www.luxfashionzone.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/cute_short_black_and_red_junior_prom_dresses.jpg  
> Skirt: http://24fashiontv.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/wpid-Short-Red-And-Black-Prom-Dresses-Video-0.jpg  
> Shoes: http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/img-thing?.out=jpg&size=l&tid=157800280
> 
> Chat's suit (but with a green bowtie): http://www.dhresource.com/0x0s/f2-albu-g2-M00-83-8F-rBVaG1Q9NjGANZMIAAI26lHmxho545.jpg/swallow-tailed-coat-bridegroom-suit-groom.jpg


	6. get my head straight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien is confused. 
> 
> (He's doing his best.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello, I'm SO sorry for how late this update is. Real life has been taking me on a ride from moving in with my friends to work drama and the like, so unfortunately writing had to take a backseat for a bit. Being an adult is hard. 
> 
> And no, it definitely has nothing to do with the fact that I didn't actually have this story planned out past the ball scene. 
> 
> I was amazed that I actually continued to get kudos and a few comments throughout my unstated hiatus, and I love you guys for it?? I can't believe people are actually reading and following this story. Every kudos and comment and bookmark and hit means the world to me. I can't promise I'll be able to update regularly but I'm going to do my best!!
> 
> Anyway. Enjoy yet another necessary buildup chapter. And maybe a little something at the end to reward you guys for your patience... ;3c

Being grounded wasn’t much different from Adrien’s day-to-day life.

He’d never actually had the freedom to do anything worthy of grounding. And the fact that the one time his father _finally_ relented and gave him an inch to work with had failed spectacularly probably meant it would be the _only_ time.

But he was Chat Noir. He snuck around when he wasn’t supposed to on a near daily basis.

 _And besides,_ Adrien thought, absentmindedly pressing his fingers to his lips as he scrolled through the Ladyblog on his computer, _It was totally worth it._

For the fifty-seventh time that day the memories flashed through his head: dancing with Marinette, _almost_ kissing Marinette, tangoing with Ladybug, Medusable, the detransformation-

The kiss _._

Following Marinette back to the lobby, stuttering out desperate apologies to the still-recovering Nathalie who, to his surprise, had pulled him in for a brief hug.

But the moment of affection had been short-lived. She’d released him, and led them back in stony silence to where the Gorilla was was waiting in the car.

She had only broken the tense quiet of the car to address Marinette as they pulled up to the bakery. “I’m deeply sorry for any inconvenience to you that Adrien’s or my irresponsibility may have caused.”

Marinette started. “Oh! It’s um. It’s no problem at all. Thank you for allowing me to come...”

She trailed off awkwardly, and glanced nervously at Adrien. He smiled helplessly, and she glanced at Nathalie before darting in to peck Adrien on the cheek, squeezing his hand quickly before exiting the car.

His second kiss that night.

“You’ll be grounded,” Nathalie said, face expressionless. Adrien observed the tired lines around her eyes. “How long, I’m not sure. Your father will discuss the terms with you when he returns from Milan tomorrow.”

And so here he sat in his room on Sunday night, anticipating his father’s return, thoughts of Marinette and Ladybug circulating his mind.

He liked Marinette. _Like-_ liked her. A lot. And he was pretty sure she liked him too, if the hidden posters of him in her room and the goodbye kiss were anything to go on. And he was _positive_ she liked Chat Noir; she’d practically told him in so many words. She was pretty, and cute, and shy and sassy and creative, and he felt an inexplicable pull towards her, an instinctive desire to be closer to her.

But Ladybug... he _loved_ Ladybug.

At least he _thought_ he did?

She’d kissed him. She’d _kissed_ him, and wasn’t that everything he’d _ever_ wanted? He trusted Ladybug in a way he’d never trusted anyone else, intensely and whole-heartedly, because that was the only way to work with a partner who so often held your life in their hands. And he knew without a doubt that he’d drop everything to be by her side, to fight with her and for her.

Just as he promised her last night.

And so how could he pursue Marinette? How could he even even _date_ her, after promising to protect Ladybug with everything he had? Hawkmoth knew who she was and it was _dangerous_. It was dangerous tomorrow and today and five minutes ago. He was undoubtedly planning how to get to her, who to claim next, whether it be her mother or her father or her friends.

How could he let himself fall for Marinette when he was about to make Ladybug’s safety a full-time job?

He groaned and let his head flop forward onto his arms on the desk.

“Plagg, what am I going to do?”

“Human emotions,” Plagg mused from where he was lounging in one of Adrien’s fencing trophies. “Too complicated. Get in the way of reasonable thought and deductive skills.”

“Ugh,” Adrien moaned into his arms.

“Try and think objectively,” Plagg suggested.

“I can’t,” Adrien protested.

Plagg huffed out impatiently. “You’re being willfully obtuse, did you know?”

Adrien sat up and wheeled toward his kwami. “Imagine...” he laid his hands out in front of him, gesturing as he talked. “Imagine loving camembert.”

“Don’t have to.”

“Just-“ Adrien sighed, plowing on. “Exactly. You don’t have to. You know you love it. You’ve loved it for a long time. It’s natural for you.

“Now imagine trying... another cheese. That maybe isn’t as... strong, or whatever, as camembert, but it’s _really_ good. And it grows on you. And even though you could never stop loving camembert, this new cheese is just, so compelling. And maybe even...” Adrien paused. “Better for you.”

There was a silence in which Adrien expected Plagg to make some witty retort about how he’d never betray his one true love, but he didn’t. Instead, he leaned forward from his seat in the trophy, gazing at Adrien intently with glinting green eyes.

“What if,” he said slowly, “The new cheese was just a different kind of camembert?”

Adrien frowned. “That’s not the point.”

“But it is,” Plagg insisted.

Adrien narrowed his eyes. “What do you know?”

Plagg snickered, settling back down in the trophy cup. “Clear your head of those meddlesome emotions and you might know some things too.”

“Plagg-“

But just then there was a knock on the door.

The butterflies that had been quivering silently in Adrien’s stomach took off in a flurry.

“Come in,” he called.

He heard the door open and close quietly before his father appeared, stalking slowly over to where Adrien sat at his computer.

He came to a stop and Adrien tried to speak.

“Père, I-“

“Nathalie has informed me about the sequence of events last night,” his father interrupted.

Adrien gulped. “Oh?”

“She told me that you got separated in the crowd and that the fault was entirely hers,” he explained.

Adrien’s heart dropped. Only partially the truth. Nathalie was protecting him, even after all he’d put her through.

“However,” his father continued, “The fact that you did nothing to relocate her, and did not think to call her, or your bodyguard, or even me for further instructions cannot be ignored. You will be grounded until next Saturday; your lunch breaks will be spent at home, you will be driven straight from home to school to photoshoots, and you will be accompanied by either Nathalie or your bodyguard at all times that you are not in school or at home. You will be allowed no free time to spend with your... _friends_. Do I make myself clear?”

Adrien wanted to meet his father’s eyes, but couldn’t. He settled his gaze on his father’s shoes instead. “Yes, Père.”

“Additionally, Nathalie will be relieved of her duties as my assistant once your grounding is over.”

Adrien snapped his head up at that, panic flooding his gut.

“No, please don’t-“

“She not only failed to keep you under her supervision- she put you in danger herself.”

“But it wasn’t her fault,” Adrien protested. “It was the akuma, she didn’t know what she was doing!”

His father studied him for a moment, his steely gaze warming slightly.

“I could have lost you.” his father said quietly.

Adrien fell silent, mesmerized by the sudden softness in his father’s eyes. The unspoken words were clear:

_Like I lost your mother._

“Please,” Adrien began after a moment. “I trust Nathalie. If anything, last night proves that she... that she cares about me. And I care about her too. Please don’t take her away from me?”

He stared unwaveringly at his father, who stared resolutely at the darkened windows of the room, considering.

“Fine,” he concluded. “I will reconsider my decision to let go of Nathalie.”

Adrien slumped in relief. “Thank you.”

His father nodded before turning on his heel and making his way back to the door. Adrien turned back to his computers, touching his mouse to disperse the screensaver.

“Ah, one more thing.”

Startled, Adrien turned back around, although he couldn’t see his father from behind the wall between the doorway and the desk.

“Once your punishment is over...” Gabriel paused. “I’d like you to invite Ms. Dupain-Cheng over for dinner.”

Adrien’s mind ran blank. “You- what?”

“I believe it would be only proper to meet the girl that my son is dating?”

“I-“ but Adrien couldn’t find it in himself to protest. Because, for all intents and purposes, he really was kind of dating Marinette.

“Okay,” he found himself saying.

“Perhaps next Sunday around 7:00?” his father said, opening the door.

“Um, sure,” Adrien gaped lamely.

“Very good,” his father replied, closing the door behind him.

Adrien stared at the blank wall behind which his father had disappeared for several minutes after the end of their encounter.

He was missing something.

Something about what had just happened made _no_ sense whatsoever. He was grounded for ditching his bodyguards... but his father approved of the girl he did it with? His father rarely made the time to eat dinner with Adrien... but went out of his way to schedule one for his girlfriend?

Was Marinette his _girlfriend?_

Adrien lowered his head down onto his desk once more.

This was going to be a very long week.

* * *

The very next day, after a physics class that felt like a week long itself, he was assaulted with a jolt of surprise when the voice that had been echoing around in his head all weekend was addressed directly to him.

“Adrien!”

He turned abruptly, unable to contain the smile that spread across his face as Marinette jogged to catch up with him on the way out into the courtyard.

“Hi,” she beamed.

“Hi,” he breathed.

“...H-hi,” she stammered, blushing and tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Hi,” he murmured, reaching a hand up to scratch behind his neck.

“Um,” Marinette began, finally breaking eye contact. “I heard Nino talking about how you were grounded for the week.”

“Oh yeah,” Adrien sighed. “My father got pretty mad about the whole ‘ditching my bodyguards’ thing.”

“Sorry,” she grimaced. “It was a pretty stupid idea...”

“It’s not your fault,” Adrien reassured her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I still had a lot of fun.”

His hand slid down to her wrist of its own accord, and she smiled shyly at the ground. “I did, too.”

Her eyes snapped back to his. “So... I was thinking.”

“Yeah?” he grinned.

“Well.” she slid her wrist through his grip and Adrien felt his heart drop - only to pick up a frantic pace when she twined her hand with his. “Maybe we could do it again sometime?”

“...I-it?” Adrien stuttered, mind buzzing blankly at the sensation of her fingers in his.

“A date,” Marinette clarified, blushing furiously. “Without, you know. The bodyguards and the akumas and whatnot.”

Adrien gazed blankly at her for a moment more, his brain a broken record, stuttering and struggling to keep up until finally- it-

Clicked.

“Y-yes!” he exclaimed. “Absolutely! In fact, I forgot to mention that after my father grounded me he invited you over to dinner, which is kind of bizarre and I totally get if you wouldn’t want to but he said he wanted to meet the girl I was dating and I said I’d ask you but- not like, it’s not like we’re dating. I mean, I guess technically we are, since you just - or we don’t have to be, if you don’t want. But I think maybe... I do want?”

Adrien snapped his mouth shut. _Idiot._

Marinette was gaping, hand sweaty in his own, and despite his brain telling his mouth to _kindly shut up,_ he clarified: “That doesn’t have to be the date you were suggesting. Obviously.”

“Y-your dad wants to meet... _me?”_ Marinette stammered.

“I know it’s - weird,” Adrien offered, trying not to make it sound like the understatement of the year.

She bit her lip. “Is it bad that I’m actually really excited to meet him?”

Adrien rolled his eyes, chuckling. “Fashion nerd. But does that mean you’ll come?”

She nodded. “Yeah. But once you’re not grounded anymore...?”

“We’ll go on a real date,” Adrien beamed.

Marinette beamed back. “Cool. And for the record...”

She raised up to her tip-toes and kissed him on the cheek.

“I’d be honored to date you,” she said confidently.

Adrien stared after her as she waved goodbye and joined Alya, who was looking just as dumbstruck as he did. He watched them whisper excitedly for a moment until they walked around the corner, and had gone out of sight.

The tables had turned. Marinette held his heart in her soft, delicate fingers, and he was a bumbling, awkward _idiot_ in the face of her newfound confidence.

How had he let this happen?

Maybe it had been better when he was in denial.

It wasn’t until a loud honk sounded behind him that Adrien startled out of his trance. He jogged down the steps quickly to where Nathalie was waiting in the car to take him home for lunch, unable to contain an undoubtedly goofy grin as he touched the warm spot on his cheek where Marinette’s lips had been for the second time in three days.

* * *

“Aren’t you supposed to be grounded?”

Plagg lounged on the window sill as Adrien turned on the shower in his bathroom, the door securely locked.

“Since when has being cooped up in my house stopped me from sneaking out to patrol?” Adrien countered.

“I don’t know,” Plagg drawled, “Maybe since your dad’s got cameras on you _everywhere_ in the house this time?”

“But not in here,” Adrien returned. “Which means I have about forty-five minutes before anyone gets suspicious.”

Plagg wrinkled his tiny nose. “Why would anyone willingly spend more time than absolutely necessary under running water?”

“I’m a model?” Adrien suggested, shrugging.

“Whatever.”

Adrien grinned, already bending down to pounce out the open window. “Plagg, transform me!”

Five minutes later found Chat Noir at their meeting place, heart pounding and tail twitching in anticipation.

For the eight-hundred-thirtieth time, Chat remembered the kiss. He’d replayed it so many times that it didn’t even seem real anymore; it felt more akin to just another fantasy he’d conjured up among all the others. In fact, what if it _was_ just a fantasy? Had it even really happened? Did the trauma of the battle cause him to dream up some kind of ideal scenario as a coping mechanism? And what if -

“Hey kitty.”

Chat spun around so quickly that he almost fell off the roof.

“L-ladybug,” he breathed.

“What’s the matter?” she giggled as he stared. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Um.”

“Come on,” she pulled out her yoyo, swinging it back and forth. “We’ve got patroling to do.”

“Wait, what?”

“Well Paris isn’t going to save itself,” she grinned, sending the yoyo into a spin as she walked toward the edge of the roof. But Chat noticed that the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Wait,” Chat protested.

“I don’t have all night,” Ladybug swung her arm back, readying to take flight.

“Stop,” Chat took hold of her arm, and the yoyo slowed to a stop.

“What?” Ladybug avoided his eyes.

“We’re not gonna, you know,” Chat pulled her back from the edge of the roof. “Talk about it?”

“It?” Ladybug repeated.

“Uh, _yeah,”_ Chat held his hands out imploringly. “Multiple ‘Its,’ actually. The whole Hawkmoth-Knows-Who-You-Really-Are thing? And the fact that we just barely won that battle by the skin of our teeth? And-“

_The kiss._

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Ladybug ground out, eyes trained on the floor.

“I beg to differ,” Chat replied in a low voice.

“Let me rephrase,” Ladybug glared up at him. “I don’t _want_ to talk about it.”

“Well I _do,”_ he insisted.

“What is there to talk about?” she snapped, finally wrenching her arm from his grip. “There’s nothing we can _do.”_

Her voice broke on the last word, and she turned away.

“I told you I’d protect you,” he said gently.

“You can’t.” she crossed her arms, looking very small.

“I always do.”

“Not this time,” she insisted, turning back around. “Chat, you don’t even know who I am. How will you be able to protect me when we’re not suited up? How do you even know if I’m-“

She cut herself off abruptly.

“If you’re what?” Chat glowered.

“Nothing,” she muttered.

“If you’re _what?”_

“How do you know if I’m... if I’m worth saving?”

Chat blinked at her as she bit her lip and looked away.

“What are you _talking_ about?”

She looked back up at him.

“My Lady, I could care less who you are under the mask.” He chanced to take hold of her hand, and he was relieved when she didn’t pull away. “No matter who you really are, you’re everything to me. You’re my other half. Literally.”

Her eyes glistened as she gazed at him, mouth parted slightly, and he couldn’t help but glance down at her lips.

“And besides,” he smirked, “Anyone who’s that good of a kisser is worth my time.”

She snorted out a laugh, trying to cover it up with a scoff as she jerked away from him. “I was in hysterics,” she insisted. “I wasn’t in my right mind.”

“Ah,” he reached out to pull her back in, placing a clawed finger under her chin to direct her gaze back at his. “But what does the mind know of matters of the heart?”

“Shut up Chat,” she spat, pushing him away and moving to sit on the edge of the roof, legs dangling.

He followed, sitting beside her and allowing a comfortable silence to settle before clearing his throat.

“But um. Are we actually gonna talk about it?”

“I told you, there’s nothing we can do.”

“Not about Hawkmoth,” he said quietly, watching her until she met his eyes.

“Oh,” she said.

“Oh,” he agreed.

Silence fell again.

Chat kicked his feet back and forth, twirling his tail between his fingers. “I’ll start then.

“I guess I’m kind of confused. Because my... advances, used to be a joke to you. Up until maybe a month or so ago, when you got mad at me. And so then you were mad, but then you were very... _not_ mad...” He gulped, remembering dressing her wound on Marinette’s bed. “...And then you - we - yeah. And now you’re just trying to pretend like nothing happened.”

He was not having a very good day when it came to words, apparently.

Ladybug considered this for a long while, gazing out at the lights of the city. Finally, she replied.

“I’m kind of confused too, I think. For different reasons than you, but confused all the same. And I’m sorry for _being_ confusing-“ she looked over to him. “But I think - I _think -_ I’m starting to... figure things out.”

“Things,” Chat repeated, glancing at her lips once more. “What... kinds of things?”

She scooted a little closer to him, holding his gaze. “Just... things.”

She was very close, and his mind was going fuzzy. “I don’t... understand.”

“I think you’ll get it soon enough,” she whispered against his lips. He found that somehow his hand had wound up on her thigh.

“L-Ladybug...” he sighed, but he’d already lost his train of thought, and his eyes were sliding closed as her lips brushed almost imperceptibly against his own-

“Until next time, kitty,” she grinned, standing abruptly and swinging her yoyo out.

But Chat was done with this game.

“No,” he snapped, rising to his feet swiftly and catching her yoyo mid-swing, yanking harshly to pull her back to him. His left arm held the yoyo taught while his right snaked up her back.

“Not this time,” he growled, drawing her in for a proper kiss.

Where their last kiss was heated, desperate, this one was slower, and _mind-melting,_ if Chat did say so himself. Their lips moved in tandem, and Chat dropped the yoyo to pull her in even closer. Her hands found his cheeks, angling his mouth so that she could kiss him deeper and Chat felt something crucial unravel near his belly when his tongue found hers and she made the smallest sound of pleasure.

The kiss built in a crescendo until she broke away with a gasp, leaning her forehead against his.

“Chat. This is-“

“Amazing?” he supplied breathlessly.

“Yes,” and his heart thrilled to find her as out of breath as him. “But I can’t-“

“I know-“

“I’m confused-“

“Me too-“

“Let’s-“ she pulled away so that only their hands were intertwined.

“Let’s figure things out,” she gave him a meaningful look that he found unfathomable. “And then... and then we can....”

Her gaze dropped down a few inches to his lips, and his stomach performed a violent flip. _She wants this._

“Okay,” he agreed, voice rough. He squeezed her hands. “Okay.”

She smiled down at the floor, laughing breathlessly and brushing her thumbs against his. “I’m gonna....” she bit her lip, looking up at him from under her eyelashes. “I’m gonna go now.”

Chat was certain that once she let go of him he’d melt to the ground and never be able to pick himself back up, but he nodded.

“Call me through your kwami if you’re ever in trouble, or need help,” he told her. “Mine will give me the message. I’m always here for you.”

“Thank you Chat,” she replied quietly.

“It’s going to be okay,” he assured her. “We’ll figure it out as we go along.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Smirking, she bent low, placing a kiss to his hand. He chuckled at the role reversal as she broke away, waving goodbye before her yoyo swung true and carried her away across the rooftops of Paris and out of sight.

Her scent still lingered in the air as he cherished the tingling of his lips, and when he blinked, blue eyes blinked back at him in the black of his vision.

His hands flew up to scrunch painfully in his hair.

 _Marinette_.

How was he supposed to choose between Marinette and Ladybug? Why did Ladybug have to start showing him romantic interest just as Marinette came into his life? And was it morally wrong to be dating two girls if you were technically two people yourself?

He groaned, setting off for home and feeling more befuddled than ever.


	7. on second thought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien gets his head in the game.
> 
> (But Marinette may or may not be one step ahead.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello... *smiles sheepishly* Long time no see...
> 
> Life is an adventure. I've got a lot on my plate but I'm determined to keep up this story. Thank you to everyone who left kind comments while I was away, and for everyone who's been so patiently waiting for an update. I know this story seems abandoned, but I promise it's not. If it ever is, I will make sure to let everyone know somehow. I just want to make sure that I have enough time and effort to dedicate whenever I sit down to write, so that each chapter is something I'm proud to post and happy to share with you. 
> 
> Hopefully the stupid amounts of fluff and tropes will make up for the long wait. Enjoy it while you can... ;)
> 
> In other news, I'm also an artist! One of the many things on my aforementioned plate is that I'm taking commissions to make some extra money. Follow me on ravenspencil.tumblr.com if you like, and feel free to request some ML fanart from there! <3

This was bad. 

Very, very bad. 

Bound and wounded and weak, Chat watched helplessly as the girl who used to be his partner slowly approached. 

She tsked. “Pretty Kitty. What a shame it had to end like this.”

But this was _not_ how it was supposed to end, or even how it was supposed to _go_. Chat was the one who got in harms way, got trapped, got akumatized when Ladybug couldn’t afford to. 

How had this happened? 

Chat couldn’t quite remember. 

Ladybug was almost on him, and he struggled against the yoyo that bound his hands and feet. Cataclysm depleted, transformation counting down, he struggled uselessly. 

She lowered herself to where he was tied on the ground, and Chat flinched at the way her eyes glowed violet, at the pitch black of her suit. 

“Chat...” she said softly, and his heart lurched at how similar she sounded to the Ladybug he loved. “Will you... will you kiss me one last time before...”

Her eyes found his and Chat could have sworn he saw deep blue fighting to break through. 

With the last of his strength he leaned forward and kissed her. 

She leaned into him and onto him, straddling his lap, and he made a helpless noise into her mouth. She smiled into the kiss and bit his lower lip, almost painfully - 

Immediately the yoyo released his wrists. Before he could react it was replaced by the vice-like grip of her hands, raising his own up and above his head against the wall as she kissed him with unbridled passion. He keened, utterly lost to the sensation. 

And then his ring was off, and he felt the overwhelming loss of both her body and his power. 

His unmasked eyes flew open and he saw Ladybug standing above him, grinning and twirling his ring in her fingers, but then suddenly Ladybug was Marinette, and then his father was there, and his head began to spin. 

His father put a hand on her shoulder, and she smiled maliciously. Adrien’s heart tightened painfully at the sight. She placed the ring in his open palm. 

His father leaned into her and said,

“Good job, Ladybug.”

And then Adrien was awake, sweaty and nauseous. 

He blinked his eyes open, pulling in deep breaths and scanning the room, reorienting himself. 

The dream was fading quickly but he managed to grasp bits and pieces and hold on tight. 

Fear. Yoyo. Kiss. Ladybug. Marinette. Father. 

Ladybug. 

Marinette. 

Adrien rolled over and sat up, pushing out a sigh and rubbing his eyes. 

It wasn’t possible. 

But then again... 

_No,_ Adrien scolded himself. _Your subconscious is just showing that to you because it would be convenient._

He couldn’t allow his brain to cut him any slack from the dilemma he was facing - _had_ to face. 

Ladybug or Marinette? 

But how could he compare the vast ocean to a beautiful lake? How could he compare the tallest tree to the most intricate flower, the blinding sun to the intimate light of a candle? 

Adrien groaned and stumbled out of bed, stretching his nightmare-aching limbs. 

He could use some candlelight right about now. 

“Plagg,” he whispered, and he saw one green eye appear, glaring, from where his kwami was resting under his pillow. 

“Please,” Adrien begged. 

He heard a tiny sigh, and then both green eyes appeared as a tiny black blur shot into his ring.

* * *

 

Chat was surprised that it only took three rounds of knocking to wake up Marinette. 

“Stupid cat,” she muttered blearily. “It’s two in the morning. On a school night.” 

The pouty look on her face was such a contrast from the evil Marinette he’d just faced that he felt relief physically surge through his body, relaxing his tensed and twitchy muscles. 

“I know, I’m sorry I just-“ he let out a shaky breath, but managed a rougeish smile. “I had a bad dream, Princess.”

Marinette gave him a look that told him she’d seen right through his bravado, but she descended from the trap door in silence, leaving it open. 

Taking this as all the invitation he was going to get, he dropped in silently and closed the door behind him. 

She was already snuggled back up under the covers, watching him. He curled up on the opposite side of the bed, hugging his knees in and making sure to keep his boots off the sheets. 

“You weren’t kidding,” she observed. “You actually had a bad dream.”

Chat nodded, closing his eyes and resting his forehead on his knees. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

He raised his head up to lean his chin on his knees instead. 

“Ladybug was akumatized,” he started, glancing over to see her reaction at Ladybug’s name, but she looked completely neutral. He continued. 

“She ki- captured me and stole my ring. But then you were - you were there, and my father too, and -“ he shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s fading.”

Somehow he found himself editing out the part where Marinette had been Ladybug. It seemed too shameful to admit. 

It was silent for a moment, as Marinette took this in. 

“Come here,” she finally said. 

Chat looked back to her, away from where he had been studying her pink chaise in the corner. She was holding up the comforter, making room beside her in the bed. 

Chat’s heart took off. 

“What?” 

Through his night vision he could see Marinette roll her eyes. “This is what my mom would do when I had bad dreams. It’s not - _weird_ or anything, okay?” 

But he could see that she was blushing, avoiding his eyes. 

“But your sheets, Princess.”

“I don’t care,” she grumbled. 

Hesitating for only a moment more, Chat slowly crawled over to where she lay, and allowed her to throw the covers over him. She shoved at his shoulder until he turned over, facing away from her, and she snuggled up behind him, molding her front to her back and throwing and arm around his middle.

The first, startling and unbidden thought he had was: _Boobs._

But the second, stronger and deep feeling that echoed after that one was pushed forcefully aside was complete, all-encompassing _warmth._

“It’s okay,” she murmured. “Let it fade.”

He did as he was told, allowing the flashes of the dream to fade into the background, and letting the reality of _Marinette_ soak into his bones. 

“Marinette,” he murmured.

“Hm?”

“I don’t know what to do.”

He hadn’t meant to say that, but his mind was quickly sliding into sleep, and the admission had just slipped out.

“About what?” 

“You know what.” There was no point avoiding the truth now, no need for tricks and playing and side-stepping. They were spooning, for god’s sake.

There was a pause. 

“I’m the girl you first asked advice about.”

It was more of a statement than a question. 

“Yeah,” he confirmed. 

“But you love Ladybug.”

“...Yeah,” he repeated. 

He heard her smile. 

“What?” he asked, turning his head to try and look at her, but she only snuggled closer. 

“I like you too, Chat.” Her lips were at the nape of his neck as she said it, and her hand came up to cradle his chest. He wished it hadn’t, because a shiver ran down his spine and all of a sudden his heart began to beat a wild rhythm against where her hand came to rest. 

He let out a nervous laugh, suddenly feeling very far from sleep. 

“I think... I think you’ll figure it out,” she said carefully. 

“Well that’s helpful,” Chat said dryly. 

“Just let it happen.”

“Um.”

“Trust me, Chat,” she whispered, and then her hand disappeared from his chest. He barely had time to mourn the loss before her fingers threaded through his hair instead. 

He felt the tension and nerves flee despite himself as he gave into the feeling of delicate fingers scratching at his scalp, behind his cat ears, his human ears. He let out a sigh - maybe the dilemma could wait... just a few more minutes...

* * *

Adrien awoke with a start.

The first jarring realization he came to was that he wasn’t in his own bed. 

The second was that he was in Marinette’s bed. 

The third was that he was no longer Chat Noir. 

The fourth was that, as per a typical morning, there was a particularly uncomfortable situation in his pants that would be incredibly embarrassing and inappropriate if found out. 

Because the fifth realization Adrien had was that sometime throughout the night he’d ended up spooning Marinette. 

Panic set in rather quickly. 

Gingerly, carefully, so, _so_ delicately, Adrien started to slide his arm out from where it was wrapped under Marinette’s. 

But with a sleepy huff, she turned abruptly, burying her face in Adrien’s shirt and throwing and arm and a leg over his body. 

His arm was still hovering. Hesitantly, he rested his hand on her waist. She snuggled closer at the touch, and his chest blossomed with something distinctly warm and fuzzy and very, _very_ fluttery.

_Well,_ Adrien thought grimly, _At least she can’t feel my boner in this position._

The likes of which was not improving at the newfound proximity of Marinette’s... everything. 

Adrien couldn’t take a breath without catching her scent, couldn’t look anywhere in the room for long enough before glancing back at her, couldn’t feel anything but where her body was in contact with hisIt was sensory overload and Adrien’s flustered mind was completely powerless against the way his heart was pumping blood furiously through his body. 

Especially _down there._

_Forget the boner!_ A coherent thought managed to get through the panic. _There are more urgent matters to attend to!_

“Plagg,” Adrien just barely whispered. 

His kwami floated down to sit in front of him on the pillow. 

“You got yourself into this mess,” Plagg said at what Adrien considered to be an extremely not-covert volume, “Now you’re getting yourself out.”

Marinette stirred at the noise, and Adrien fought in vain against the imminent heart attack that was threatening to be his undoing. 

“Mmm- Adrien?”

His heart came to a halt. 

But he looked down to see her eyes still closed, the corners of her mouth raised in a sleepy smile. 

“W-wrong blonde, Princess.”

She mumbled something incoherent and sighed, and Adrien realized she was still asleep. 

Pointedly avoiding the butterflies that surged through his stomach at the fact that she was murmuring his name in her sleep, Adrien shifted his hand to pat at her back gently, desperately hoping she wouldn’t open her eyes when she woke up. 

This time when she spoke, he knew she was awake. 

“Who invited you to stay the night, Chaton? Because it definitely wasn’t me.”

He looked down. Eyes still closed. 

“I don’t know Princess,” he managed. “You seem pretty comfortable to me.”

She made to disentangle herself but Adrien tightened his grip on her.

“Um. You should know that I’m, uh. Not transformed.” 

He felt her stiffen under his hand for a moment.

“I won’t look,” she finally whispered.

Keeping her eyes closed, she resumed her shifting, retreating all of her limbs back from his body and scooting up the bed so that her head was back on the pillows, beside Adrien’s. 

“I’m sorry I fell asleep,” he said. “I didn’t mean-“

“It’s okay,” she interrupted. “I’m the one who invited you into bed.”

Adrien smirked. “Well, I am a man of the night.”

She shoved him and he chuckled. 

“Well it’s not night anymore,” she retorted. “I think. Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Adrien closed his eyes. “Yeah.”

There was a pause. 

“Chat.”

Adrien was startled to be addressed as such while detransformed. 

“Yeah?”

“Is this going to be a... regular thing?”

Adrien opened his mouth to apologize again, but closed it promptly. He was supposed to be Chat right now, not Adrien. 

“If having nightmares means I get to snuggle up with you every night, then sign me up.”

He expected her to shove him again, but she never did. 

He looked over and found her biting her lip. 

“You liked it,” he murmured in awe. 

She opened her mouth and he figured the snarky retort he’d expected was about to make its debut, but it didn’t.”

“Yeah,” she breathed. “It was nice.” 

Adrien’s heart stuttered. “I-it was.”

“If you want, um. We could - again.” 

Adrien had almost come to miss bashful Marinette. 

“I do want,” he agreed.

“But your dilemma.”

“... My dilemma.”

He took a deep breath. 

“I... I don’t care.”

“What?”

He knew he was supposed to be playing Chat, and that Chat was never this candid, this _open_ , but he was looking at her and he could tell she was hanging on his every word and Adrien let the words flow uninhibited from his mind to his mouth. 

“I want to be close to you, Marinette. I - like you. I like _you._ A lot.”

It was like watching a dam break in fast forward. She released the breath she was holding, turning to surge forward and kiss him. 

It was clumsy at first, because her eyes had been closed and she’d taken a wild and only partially accurate guess at where his mouth was, but her hand found his cheek and her lips slotted with his. 

Marinette was kissing him. 

_Marinette_ was _kissing_ him. 

His chest soared as he sighed into her sweet mouth, hand rising to touch her hand, fingers sliding down her wrist and her arm. 

And as soon as it had started, it was over. 

“You’d better get going, Chaton. I don’t suspect you can go to school with morning breath like that.”

Adrien was still in such a state of shock that he couldn’t even formulate a comeback. 

“Hah,” he replied.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” she grinned, promptly turning and climbing out of bed. She didn’t open her eyes, or look back until she had crossed the room and gone out the door, closing it behind her. 

Blinking, Adrien looked around, at a loss. His eyes finally settled on the clock behind her pillows. 

7:55AM. 

He had five minutes to get to school.

Scrambling and nearly bumping his head on the ceiling in his haste to stand, Adrien let out a string of words that were probably capable of cracking even his father’s steely demeanor. 

“P-Plagg,” Adrien squeaked. “Transform me.”

With a put-upon sigh, Plagg did as he was told. 

Five minutes later found Adrien back in his room, frantically stuffing his school things into his book bag. He had only been home for about thirty seconds before there was a knock on his door. 

“Y-yeah?” he replied, just pulling on a shoe, hopping on one foot. 

Nathalie walked in, and Adrien ceased hopping. 

“Hi,” he blushed, even though there was no way she could possibly have known where he just was. 

“Adrien. You’re late.”

“Yeah, my alarm didn’t go off,” he lied, sliding on a collared shirt. 

“Well hurry up,” Nathalie reprimanded, retreating from the doorway. A pause, and then: “I’ll bring a power bar for you in the car.”

“Thank you!” Adrien exclaimed, and hurried after her not a moment later. 

In six minutes he was bolting out of the car. In another four, he had his hand on the classroom door. Ten minutes wasn’t even the latest he’d been to class - 

“Wait!”

Adrien whipped around to see Marinette sprinting down the hall. 

He remembered just why she was as late as he was, trying and failing to suppress the smile that spread across his face. 

“Slept late?” he laughed as she caught up to him, panting. 

The grin that flashed across her face was unabashedly devious. “Something like that. You?”

She didn’t wait for his reply - not that he would have been capable of one anyway - before pushing open the door herself and holding it open for him. 

It took a good ten minutes - including the teacher’s lecture on his tardiness, the introduction of the lesson, Nino’s silent interrogation, his replaying of the morning’s events twenty times - to suddenly wonder how Marinette had known that Chat went to school. 

* * *

“Wait, so you’re telling me that you’ve _never_ seen even a single Disney movie?”

“My father isn’t exactly the most lighthearted person you’ll every meet.”

“Even when you were little?”

“Maybe back when I was a baby and my mom was still around, but not to my knowledge.”

“Adrien. This is _criminal._ We have to remedy this situation immediately.”

Adrien beamed at how frustrated she seemed. “Are you suggesting a Disney marathon?”

“It’s for your own good,” she insisted, looking absolutely indignant as they walked away from the lockers to their next class. “It’s not my fault you were deprived.”

“I feel like I don’t really need a Disney education, though.”

“ _Excuse_ me?”

Adrien curled one of her pigtails around his finger. “Because I’ve got something better than a Disney princess right here.”

“Oh please,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. 

_“I can show you the world...”_ he sang loudly, _“Shining, shimmering spleeeee-“_

“You’re _such_ a liar,” she laughed, covering his mouth until he stopped singing. 

“Come on, who hasn’t seen at least _one_ Disney movie?” he snorted. “I wasn’t lying about my father though. I haven’t seen very many.”

“Does that mean you’re still up for a marathon?”

“Is this your future date proposition?” 

“One of many,” 

“Well, count me Aladd _in,”_ he smirked. 

“Seriously?”

“But considering how I’m still grounded, it may be Ja _far_ in the future.”

“These aren’t even good.”

“By the way, have I mentioned that you look great in those _Jean_ ie’s?” 

Adrien paused, realizing that Marinette had stopped walking and was openly staring.

_Too much, pull back pull back!_

"What?"

She shook her head slowly, keeping her eyes on his. "Nothing." 

He frowned, and she giggled, snapping out of it. 

"You're... not who I thought you were." 

Adrien wasn't sure how to feel about this. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

She beamed and finally broke his gaze to look down at his hand, and take it as they kept walking. 

"It's the best thing." 


End file.
